Fragments of Gold
by Alice Arcadia
Summary: "Thou art a radiant person—Sincere, proud. And kind. That smile of his sparkles softly, like the shining morning sun. You, who art kind, believe in justice, and loves goodness. Your shining sword removes and eliminates those who'd become the evil, the wicked in every corner of the world― ―You're a prince from a fairy tale." Fate/Zero Alternate Chapter 5: 2% Complete...
1. Act I: Heaven's Feel

_The Holy Grail War. It is, a bloody conflict, where we magi will wager our lives for the sake of a wish._

 _Seven Servants, and Seven Magi chosen by the Grail. Heroic Spirits who once met an "untimely death" will revive into the modern world by temporarily obtaining vessels for their souls called Servants, gathering together in one place alongside the magi who are to be their Masters, they will kill each other until one Servant remains at the end, unfolding into a brutal battle that surpasses human intellect._

 _Magi and Servants. For the sake of having their wishes granted, together._

* * *

 _Fourteen hundred years ago..._

 _Caliburn, the Sword of Selection. Lone it stood, bound to the unmovable stone, the final wish of king Uther Pendragon, for only the one able to pull the sword shall become King._

 _Many have attempted to draw the Sword—it couldn't be too difficult could it? However, even the bulkiest and the strongest of the country's men couldn't separate the blade from the rock. Hundreds of men, at one point, had lined for their turn to try, and every single one left the Sword, fatigued and defeated. So it was thought that the one to draw the Sword was of myth only. Perhaps they would decide their King through a more sophisticated method, such as a Jousting Competition._

 _The open area was seemingly empty, save for the fifteen year old boy and his teacher. The boy walked up to the blade, hand outreached. But before he touched Caliburn's ornate handle, he hesitated. The Magus clad in white, who sat upon a mound behind the boy, spoke up._

 _"Oh? You aren't going to do it?" The boy looked over his shoulder, and gave a solemn smile. The Wizard continued, "You should consider it thoroughly before you pick it up."_

 _Finally, the boy spoke, "Yes. Once you pick this sword up, there is only cruel fate ahead."_

 _"Once you draw the blade, you will stop living as a human."_

 _The boy, replied, "No. If I can lead this country, help these people live happily, then I can't be wrong." With newfound resolution, he reached for the beautiful sword, and gripped the handle tight._

 _"I see then. May Britannia prosper under your rule, King Arthur."_

* * *

 _Eight years ago..._

 _Let us tell a story about a particular man. A man who believed in his ideals more than anyone else, and by those ideals was driven to despair._

 _His dream was pure. He wished for everyone in this world to be happy; it was all he asked. It is a childish ideal that all young boys will grow attached to at least once, an ideal they will abandon as they grow accustomed to reality's harshness. Happiness requires a sacrifice—this is something that all children learn when they reach adulthood._

 _But that man was different. Perhaps he was simply the biggest fool of all. Perhaps he was broken somewhere within his mind. Or perhaps he was one of those whom we call Saints, those entrusted with God's will. One whom common folk would never understand._

 _He knew that for any existence in this world, his only two choices were sacrifice or salvation, and he understood that Heaven's judgment granted nothing... Henceforth, he set his mind to tipping that scale. To abate the world's grief, there was no better way, no method more efficient. To save just one life on one side, he had to forsake a life on the other side. To let the majority survive, he had to leave a minority to die. Therefore, rather than protecting people for the sake of saving someone, he chose to excel at the art of killing people._

 _Again and again, he painted his hands the color of blood._

 _Never flinching, never questioning the righteousness of his acts or doubting his goal, he forced himself to only tip the scale faultlessly. He never misjudged the value of a life. With no regard to the humility or age of any existence, all lives were weighed evenly. Without discrimination, he saved, and without discrimination, he killed._

 _Regretfully, he realized—too late—that in order to value everyone with equal fairness, he could not love anyone. Had he carved that inviolable rule into his spirit sooner, he could have attained salvation. Freezing his young heart into necrosis to become a bloodless, tearless measuring machine, he sorted those who were to die, and those who were to live. There was no suffering for him. But the man was wrong._

 _A delighted smile would fill his chest with pride, and a wailing voice would shake his heart. Anger was added to his resentment, and he grew regretful as tears of loneliness longed for hands that reached out to him. For someone pursuing an ideal beyond the reason of men, he was too human. How many times had he been punished by this contradiction?_

 _He did know about friendship. He did know about love. Even when he put that one beloved life and an uncountable number of complete strangers on opposite sides of the scale... He certainly never, ever made a mistake._

 _Beyond loving someone, and judging that life on the same level as other lives, he had to value it impartially, and impartially he had to forfeit it. Even when he was with someone precious to him, he always seemed to be mourning. And now, the man was being inflicted with the greatest punishment._

 _Outside the window, a snowstorm had frozen everything. A mid-winter night congealed the ground of the forest._

 _The room lay in an old castle built on the frozen soil, but it was protected by the gentle flame burning in the fireplace. In the warmth of that shelter, the man was holding a new existence in his arms. It was a really small one—a body so tiny it was nearly ephemeral, without any weight by which one could gauge its readiness._

 _Here, even a delicate touch could be dangerous, as with the first snow scooped by hand which crumbles with a mere jolt. In frail eagerness, the child slept to preserve her body temperature, breathing leniently. It was all the modestly throbbing chest could manage at the moment._

 _"Don't worry. She is sleeping."_

 _As he lifted the baby in his arms, the resting mother laid on the couch and smiled at them. The mother's haggard look suggested she was not yet out of danger, and her complexion was imperfect; even so, her beautiful face, reminiscent of a jewel, had not deteriorated in any way. Above all, a blissful tone brightened her smile and erased the exhaustion that otherwise threatened to wear out her gentle look._

 _"She was always a difficult child, crying even when held by the nurses, whom she should already be accustomed to. This is the first time she let herself be held so quietly... She understands, doesn't she? That it is fine, because you are a good man."_

 _"..."_

 _Silent and dumbfounded, the man compared the mother on the bed to the child in his arms. Had Irisviel's smile ever looked so dazzling?_

 _She had been a woman of little happiness. No one had ever thought of giving her that feeling called "happiness." She was not a creation of gods; she was created by men... For a homunculus, such treatment was normal. Irisviel never had any wish._

 _Created as a puppet and brought up like one, perhaps she never understood the meaning of happiness to begin with. And yet, at that moment, she was beaming._

 _"I am really glad I had this child."_

 _Quietly bringing forth her love, Irisveil von Einzbern spoke as she watched over the sleeping child._

 _"Henceforth, she will be, first and foremost, an imitation of a human. It will be tough, and she might hate the mother who thrust such a painful existence upon her. But I am happy. This child is lovely; she is splendid."_

 _She did not seem unusual in any way, and was by all appearances a lovely baby, yet—While still in the womb, a number of magical treatments had been applied on the unborn body, reconfiguring it to be different from a human's, and making it even more disparately inhuman than the mother's was. Even if it was born, its usefulness was restricted; the body was a mere cluster of magic circuits. This was the true nature of Irisviel's beloved daughter._

 _Despite the cruelty of such a birth, Irisviel still decided to go ahead with it. Having been born as such a thing, and having given birth to such a thing, she loved its existence, found pride in it, and smiled. That strength, that bracing heart, came about because she was, undoubtedly, a mother._

 _The girl—just a puppet—had found love, and became a woman who learnt of the immovable strength a mother. Nobody could meddle with that look of happiness. Right now, the bedchamber of the mother and child, protected by the warmth of the fireplace, was indifferent to all despair and sorrow._

 _But—the man knew better. In the world he was part of, the snowstorm blowing outside the window was most appropriate._

 _"Iri, I—"_

 _As he spoke, the man felt his chest pierced by a blade—the blade of a peacefully sleeping face and the dazzling smile of a mother._

 _"I will someday be the plight that kills you."_

 _A gagging sensation rose, bloody, in his throat. Irisviel nodded at his declaration, a peaceful expression on her face._

 _"I understand. Of course. That is the earnest wish of the Einzberns. That is what I am here for."_

 _That was the future which had already been decided. Six years later, the man would bring his wife to her dying place. As the victim who was to save the world, Irisviel had become the sacrifice devoted to his ideal._

 _The matter had been discussed several times between the two, and they had come to an agreement. The man cried his heart out at the decision, and cursed himself for it. Each time, Irisviel had forgiven him and encouraged him._

 _"I know your ideals, and I grew attached to your prayers; that is why I am here now. You guided me. You gave me a life as someone more than just a puppet."_

 _For that same ideal, she sacrificed herself. She had become a part of him that way. Such was the love which took the form of the woman Irisviel. If it was her... The man could permit it._

 _"There is need to grieve over me. I am already part of you. Enduring the pain of your own sundering would be enough."_

 _"... So, what about her?"_

 _The infant's body was light as plumage, yet a weight of different dimensions made the man's legs shiver. He could not understand yet. He was not prepared to understand how he would choose when that child was placed against his ideals._

 _Do not judge or forgive such a man's way of life. There is not the power for that yet. Even for such a pure life, the ideal was merciless. Without regard for the humility of one life, without regard to age, all were equally regarded—_

 _"I am... not fit to hold her."_

 _The man squeezed his dripping voice out, even as insanity threatened to crush its sweetness. A teardrop fell onto the plump, cherry-colored cheek of the baby in his arms. Sobbing silently, the man bent on one knee. To overthrow the world's heartlessness, he aspired to a greater heartlessness... To the man who still had love, that was inflicting the final and greatest punishment._

 _The one he loved most—he would protect her, even if it meant the world's ruin. But the man understood. When the time came for his justice to demand the sacrifice of such an innocent life—what kind of decision would the man Emiya Kiritsugu make? Kiritsugu wept, fearful of the day that might come, frightened by that one-in-a-thousand chance._

 _Her arms warmly wrapped around Kiritsugu's chest, Irisviel raised her upper body from the bed, and gently placed her hand on the shoulder of her husband, who burst into tears._

 _"Never forget. Wasn't it your dream? To bring about a world where nobody would have to cry like that. Eight more years... and your battle will be over. We will carry out this ideal. I'm sure the Grail will save you."_

 _His wife, fully comprehending his agony, caught Kiritsugu's tears as kindly as she could._

 _"When that day is over, you must hold the child Illyasviel once more. Stick your chest out like a father."_

 _He simply stared, solemnly, understandingly._

* * *

 _The darkness was surrounded by ambition, accumulated over a thousand years._

 _Answering the summons of the Einzbern family head, Emiya Kiritsugu and Irisviel rushed to Einzbern's old castle, to a place sealed off by ice—a most grandiose but dark place—the Einzbern Castle's ceremony chamber. This place was not for praising the favor of gods, or for the spirit to seek peace. In this magi-inhabited castle, the so-called prayer room was the room where magecraft ceremonies were carried out through sacrificial offerings._

 _The colorful stained glass overhead displayed not a portrait of any saint, but rather the Einzberns' long history of pursuing the Grail. Of the Three Families of The Beginning, the Einzbern family had spent the most time on the Grail. Surrounding themselves deep in the icy mountains, stubbornly severing all ties with the outside world, they had begun seeking the miracles of the Grail almost a thousand years ago. But the search was filled with setbacks and humiliation, as well as suffering and opposition. In such a condition, their searching bore no results._

 _Finally despairing at this method of seeking the Grail alone, they reluctantly agreed to a pact of cooperation with the outsider families, Tohsaka and Matou, two hundred years ago. They never won in the Holy Grail Wars that followed, due to the abilities of their Master, which always fell short. The final solution was to hire, from outside, magi who were apt at fighting. This decision was made nine years ago. Emiya Kiritsugu could be deemed the trump card of the Einzbern family, which had always been proud of the purity of their bloodline; because of him, they even changed their family creed a second time._

 _Passing the halls, Kiritsugu's sight unwittingly found a relatively new painting on the colorful window. Drawn there was the Einzbern family's Holy Maiden of Winter, Lizleihi Justizia, and two magi waiting on her to the left and right. All three extended their hands to the Grail in the sky. From the painting's composition and the balance of its design, it was easy to see how contemptuously the Einzbern family looked down upon the Tohsaka and Matou families two hundred years ago, as well as their humiliation at having to rely on them for help. The painting communicated it all. If he was lucky enough to win and survive the upcoming war—Kiritsugu gave a bitter mental laugh in a low, sarcastic voice—his own image would probably be portrayed against his will on a window in this manner._

 _The old magus, king of this wintery castle, awaited Kiritsugu and Irisviel in front of the sacrificial altar. Jubstacheit von Einzbern. known as Acht after he became the eighth head of the Einzbern family. Through continuous prolonging of his life, he had lived for nearly two centuries now, leading the Einzbern family ever since they changed their focus from Grail-seeking to the Grail War._

 _Kiritsugu knew nothing of the Justizia era, but ever since the second Holy Grail War began, old man Acht had suffered more than once the pain of defeat. For him, the anxiety of facing this third opportunity must be extraordinary. Nine years ago, he had welcomed this ill-reputed Magus Killer, Emiya Kiritsugu, into the Einzbern family, for no reason other than Kiritsugu's amazing skills._

 _"The holy relic that we sought in Cornwall has finally arrived this morning."_

 _Stroking his white beard, which invoked mental images of a frozen waterfall, old man Acht stared at Kiritsugu. An astute light came from deep within his eye sockets; this light within his eyes hid his senility. Despite having lived in this old castle for a long time, Kiritsugu could never tolerate the feeling of undue pressure from his eyes each time they met._

 _In the direction indicated by the old family head's pointing hand, a huge charcoal-colored box could be seen, tied ridiculously tightly atop the sacrificial altar._

 _"With this as a catalyst, it would be possible to summon the strongest Heroic Spirit of the Sword. Kiritsugu, consider this the Einzbern family's greatest aid to you."_

 _"I am deeply grateful, dear head of the family." Feigning impassivity, Kiritsugu bowed deeply._

 _The Einzbern family had broken the rule, set since its founding, and brought external blood into the family, but the Grail seemed to have accepted it without opposition. The Command Seal appeared on Kiritsugu's right hand three years ago. Soon, he would shoulder the zealous thousand-year-old wish of the Einzbern family and participate in the upcoming fourth Holy Grail War._

 _The old head of family turned his eyes to Irisviel, who lowered her gaze respectfully._

 _"Irisviel, what is the vessel's status?"_

 _"There are no problems. Even in Fuyuki, it will function normally." Irisviel answered fluently._

 _The wish-granting machine, the omnipotent chalice, was only a spiritual entity and did not possess a physical form. To allow its Holy Grail form to descend, a Holy Grail vessel must be prepared. This war involving seven Servants of the Holy Grail could be called a spiritual evocation ritual as well._

 _Since the beginnings of the Holy Grail War, the task of preparing a man-made Grail vessel had always been carried out by the Einzbern family. In this fourth War, the responsibility fell to Irisviel. Therefore, she must leave for Fuyuki with Kiritsugu; she must be at the battlefield._

 _Old man Acht, eyes shining with insane strength, nodded seriously. "This time... None must survive. Kill the six Servants! This time we must acquire the Third Magic, the Golden Grail."_

 _"Yes sir!"_

 _At the old family head's command spoken with such burning fervor, magus and homunculus, partners in fate, answered simultaneously. But in his heart, Kiritsugu could not care less about the rigid desire of this old head of family._

 _Achievement... Einzbern's head of family had condensed all emotion into this one word which held infinite interpretations._

 _One would think the only thing left in Einzbern's spirit was this stubborn desire for achievement._

 _The materialization of the spirit was a miracle. A thousand years had been spent seeking this lost miracle... During this long and arduous journey, they had long since lost their methods and purpose. If only to prove that their thousand-year journey was not for naught, if only for confirmation that it did exist, the Einzbern family fought with their lives to obtain the Grail. But to them, what the Grail would be used for once it had been summoned—that sense of purpose had long since disappeared._

 _It matters not. Per your expectations, through my hands I will grant you your sought-after Holy Grail. Refusing to lose to the old man's enthusiasm, Emiya Kiritsugu said this in his mind. But that is not all. I will use that omnipotent chalice to grant my own deepest wish…_

* * *

 _Three Years Ago..._

 _"The patterns that have appeared on your right hand are called the Command Seals. They are proof that you were chosen by the Grail, and also the holy marks that grant you the right to control a Servant."_

 _The person who explained all this with a smooth but carrying voice was Tohsaka Tokiomi. In the room of an elegant villa, built atop a small hill in the neatest district in South Turin, Italy, three men sat in a lounge chair—Kirei, Tokiomi, and the priest who had introduced them and mediated the conversation, Kotomine Risei—Kirei's birth father._

 _As the friend of a priest who would soon be eighty, Tohsaka was a rather eccentric Japanese. He seemed to be about the same age as Kirei, settled and emanating an expert aura. His family lineage was old and distinguished even by Japanese standards, and this villa was—in his own words—his secondary residence. Most interestingly, he casually declared himself a magus._

 _Being a magus was not as strange as it sounded. Kirei was a clergyman like his father, yet the duties of the father and son already differed greatly from what ordinary people would expect of a priest anyway._

 _The Holy Church that people like Kirei belonged to had a doctrine outside the bounds of miracles and divine mysteries, which served to exterminate the stigma of heresy and bury it into oblivion. That standpoint allowed them to supervise the blasphemy called magecraft._

 _Magi conspired only with other magi, and they were organized in a self-preserving group that called itself the Association, which presented a rival threat to the Holy Church. Presently, both sides had agreed to preserve a temporary peace. Even then, a state of affairs that would gather a priest from the Holy Church and a magus in the same building for a lecture was unthinkable. As for the priest, Risei, the Tohsaka family was one to which the Church already had old connections, despite its status as a Magus house._

 _The night before, Kirei had discovered the surfacing pattern, shaped in three marks. He had then consulted his father, and Risei had immediately taken his son to Turin the next morning to meet that young magus. They greeted hurriedly, and Tokiomi proceeded to explain the situation concerning the Holy Grail War to Kirei in this secret meeting. The mark on Kirei's hand was the manifestation of Kirei's privilege—a chance at fulfilling his desire for a miracle, in the fourth recreation of the Holy Grail that was to happen three years later._

 _Not that he would have refused to fight. Kirei's duty in the Holy Church was, in essence, direct elimination of heresy—this implied that he was a full-fledged combatant. One could say it was his very duty to wager his life against a magus. The problem at hand was the contradiction inherent in having Kirei, a clergyman, participate as a magus in the Holy Grail War, a dispute between magi._

 _"The Holy Grail War is a battle which uses Servants as familiars. To sustain itself, elementary magic for their summoning is required. Essentially, the seven persons who are selected as Masters to the Servants have to be magi. It must be exceptional for someone like you, who does not practise magecraft for a living, to be recognized by the Grail at such an early stage."_

 _"Does the Grail have preferences in its selection?"_

 _Tokiomi nodded to the still-unconvinced Kirei._

 _"I mentioned the Three Families of the Beginning. Among those favored in the granting of this privilege are magi from the houses of Einzbern, Tohsaka and Makiri—now known as Matou. That also means that..."_

 _Tokiomi lifted his right hand to show the threefold pattern._

 _"As the current head of the Tohsaka family, I will participate in the next Holy Grail War."_

 _Was this man planning to cross arms with Kirei after having kindly guided him so thoroughly? Although Kirei could not comprehend it, he carried on with his numerous questions._

 _"I was wondering about the Servants you mentioned earlier. You said that Heroic Spirits were summoned and used as familiars..."_

 _"It may be hard to believe, but that is the truth. That is one of the wonders of this Grail."_

 _The legends of great men, supermen who had left their name in history and folklore—They are the ones who, after their deaths, remained in the memory of men; they were set apart from the category of mortals, and were promoted even in the spiritual realm; they were Heroic Spirits. They enjoy a status higher than the vengeful spirits or common evil spirits from nature that magi usually summoned as familiars. In a manner of speaking, a Heroic Spirit was an existence that enjoyed a spiritual status equal to a god. Although a part of that power could be brought out and borrowed, it was unthinkable that they could be used as familiars in the present world._

 _"If you consider an act of such impossibility as proof of the power of the Grail, you would understand how outrageous a treasure it is. Even the summoning of a Servant is but a mere fragment of the Grail's power." Tohsaka Tokiomi sighed deeply and shook his head, seemingly dumbfounded by his own words._

 _"Heroic Spirits who lived no more than a century ago, after the ancient age of gods, can be summoned. Seven Heroic Spirits follow seven Masters; each protects his or her own Master, and attempts to exterminate the enemy Masters. Heroes from any era and any country may be summoned in the present era, and they face off in a deadly competition for supremacy. That is the Holy Grail War of Fuyuki—Heaven's Feel."_

 _"... Such a monstrosity... occurring in a place inhabited by thousands of citizens?"_

 _By consensus, magi conceal themselves; it was the only way to exist in an era where science was believed to be the universal truth. With the Holy Church as an additional consideration, revealing their existence was definitely not an option. However, with a Heroic Spirit in tow, one would also have to conceal a source of power capable of causing catastrophic disaster. Bringing seven Servants together in the present era, in a conflict between humans, and having them clash in battle... That was practically ordering a large-scale slaughter._

 _"—Of course, it is implicit that the confrontation must be held in secret. You will need well-prepared supervision to ensure that."_

 _Having remained silent until then, Kirei's father, the priest Risei, came forward and voiced his part. "The Holy Grail War happens once every sixty years; this will be the fourth time it has occurred. The civilization of Japan had already begun when the second war occurred. Even in the most remote regions, we cannot overlook the possibility of people witnessing the spread of serious damage. Thus, since the third Holy Grail War, an agreement had been made; the Holy Church would dispatch a supervisor. To minimize disaster from the War, we must conceal its existence and have the magi comply in keeping the feud a secret."_

 _"Does the Church serve as a referee in a conflict between magi?"_

 _"Precisely because it is a conflict between magi. Because of the political complications, nobody in the Magus Association is fit to referee. There simply is no other way but to delegate it to an external authority such as the Church._

 _"Furthermore, the Holy Church would not let the name of the Holy Grail be used lightly. We cannot ignore the possibility that it really is the cup that received the blood of the son of God, either."_

 _Kirei and Risei, father and son, both belonged to the Assembly of the Eighth Sacrament. The recovery of holy relics numbered among their duties. The treasure called the Holy Grail had appeared in many tales and legends, and it was of particular importance in the Church's doctrine._

 _"During the third Holy Grail War, in the chaos of the World War, a meeting was held under similar conditions. I, still a youngster then, was appointed to an important task. For the next battle, I would proceed to the land of Fuyuki to watch over your fight." At his father's words, Kirei tilted his head._

 _"Hold on. Isn't the chosen Church supervisor expected to be fair? It is a problem if one of the participants is related by blood..."_

 _"Now, now. You think this is a blind spot overlooked by the rules?"_

 _The unusual smile of the stubborn father implied something that Kirei could not read._

 _"Kotomine, you should not trouble your son. Let us move on to the real question."_

 _Tohsaka Tokiomi quickly urged the old priest to the point._

 _"Hm, right—Kirei, so far we have only explained the outward aspects of the Grail War. There is another reason I had you meet Mr. Tohsaka today."_

 _"... Which is?"_

 _"To tell the truth, since some time ago we have had positive proof that the Grail which appeared in Fuyuki was a different one from the holy relic of the son of God. In the end, this battle of the Holy Grail War in Fuyuki is being fought only for a mere copy of the omnipotent vessel, one that opens a way to a utopia. It is in no way related to our Church."_

 _That was how things were. Otherwise, the Holy Church would not be content merely with the role of a silent supervisor. If the Grail turned out to be an actual Holy Relic, the Church would bypass the ceasefire agreement and plunder it off the hands of the magi._

 _"If a chalice is only a means to reach the Akashic Records, it is not the concern of our Holy Church. After all, the craving of magi to find Akasha, the origin, does not necessarily conflict with our doctrine._

 _"—However, for us to permit it being left alone, it has to fall into the hands of someone strong. If an unwelcome fellow managed to get his hands on it, we don't know what kind of accident might be caused."_

 _"Then, if we eliminate it as a heresy—"_

 _"That would still be difficult. The magi who yearn for the Grail have an uncommon tenacity. If we conducted a frontal trial, conflict with the Magus Association would be inevitable. That would create too many victims._

 _"Rather, as a second-best plan, finding a way to entrust it to a 'preferred party' would be most interesting."_

 _Kirei was gradually catching up to the true motive of this interview. His father was mingling with Tohsaka Tokiomi, a magus, after all. Tohsaka Tokiomi nodded and resumed._

 _"Reaching the Akasha; there is no greater purpose to us Tohsaka than that. Sadly, the Einzberns and Matous, who once shared the same motive, have lost themselves to more worldly concerns, and have now forgotten their original intention completely. I will not even mention how they have invited four Masters from outside. They want the Grail for their despicable lust and nothing else."_

 _That would mean that the Holy Church would approve no one else but Tohsaka Tokiomi as the Grail's bearer. Kirei slowly started to understand more and more about his assignment._

 _"So you would like me to participate in the next Grail War to let Mr. Tohsaka Tokiomi win?"_

 _"Exactly."_

 _Finally, Tohsaka Tokiomi revealed the first sign of a smile._

 _"Of course, we will stealthily join forces against the five remaining Masters and annihilate them to increase our chances at victory."_

 _At Tokiomi's words, Father Risei gave an austere nod. The neutrality of the Holy Church as a referee was already turning into a farce. This Holy Grail War must be interesting, in contrast to the Church's original expectations._

 _Kirei found this turn of events neither right nor wrong. If the intentions of the Church were clear, there was only the fulfilling of his task as a devoted executor._

 _"Kirei, you will be transferred from the Holy Church to the Magus Association, and you will become my apprentice."_

 _Without a break, and in a pragmatic tone, Tohsaka Tokiomi hastened his explanations._

 _"A—transfer?"_

 _"The exchange has already been made formal, Kirei."_

 _At this, Father Risei took out a letter. It was a notification with the joint signatures of the Holy Church and the Magus Association, addressed to Kotomine Kirei. Kirei was more than surprised at the merit of the performance: in the short time frame between yesterday and today, the letter had been taken care of posthaste. Kirei had no real reason to act up in the matter, nor did he have any reason for taking offense at the discussion; he had no purpose at all._

 _"Our most important priority now is to have you do nothing but practice magecraft in my house in Japan. The next Holy Grail War is in three years. By then, you must have a Servant who will obey you, and you must become a magus who will participate in the battle as a Master."_

 _"But—is it all right? If I openly study under you, will there not be suspicion of our cooperation?"_

 _Tokiomi gave a cold-hearted smile and shook his head._

 _"You don't know magi. In our world, if a teacher and his student encounter a conflict of interest, it is perfectly normal for it to end in a battle to the death."_

 _"Ah, I see."_

 _Though Kirei did not mean to understand magi, he had a good grasp of the tendencies of this clan known as magi. As an executor, he had had countless encounters with heretical magi. With his own hands, he had taken down at least twenty or more of them._

 _"So, do you have other questions?"_

 _In response to Tokiomi's request for a conclusion, Kirei asked the question he had all along._

 _"Just one. The Grail that selects the Masters; what exactly is its purpose?"_

 _Apparently that was not a question Tokiomi expected. The magus's eyebrows gathered in a wrinkle for a short while before he gave a relaxed reply._

 _"The Grail will... Of course, it will preferably select Masters who sincerely need it. As I said earlier, we Tohsaka will be included at the top of that list as one of the original three families."_

 _"So all of the Masters have a reason to want the Grail?"_

 _"It is not limited only to that. The Grail requires seven persons to show up. If an insufficient number turn up at the present time, irregular people who would normally not be chosen can also carry Command Seals. There might have been such a case in the past, but—ah, I see."_

 _While speaking, Tokiomi seemed to realize Kirei's suspicion._

 _"Kirei, you think your selection by the Grail was a mistake, don't you?" Kirei nodded. No matter how hard one searched, one could find no reason for a wishing machine to notice him._

 _"Hm, it certainly is odd. The only thing that would link you to the Grail would be your father, who was appointed as supervisor, but... No, you could think that is the very reason."_

 _"... Which means?"_

 _"The Grail might have already anticipated that the Holy Church would support the Tohsaka family. Thus, an executor of the Church who could acquire Command Seals would support the Tohsaka." With those words, Tokiomi, satisfied and wishing to end the discussion, added._

 _"In other words, the Grail is giving me, a Tohsaka, two shares of command Seals. For that, it chose you as a Master. How about it? Does this explanation satisfy you?"_

 _He delivered this conclusion daringly._

 _"..."_

 _Such arrogant confidence suited the man Tohsaka Tokiomi. His dignity bordered on obnoxiousness. Certainly, as a magus he was a man of excellence; his self-confidence was born from that excellence. He probably never doubted his own judgment. You would never get any other answer from Tokiomi here and now— Kirei concluded thus._

 _"When do we go to Japan?"_

 _Hiding his inner discouragement, Kirei changed the subject._

 _"I will visit Great Britain for a bit. I have a small task to do at Clock Tower. You will go to Japan a step ahead of me. I will tell my family."_

 _"Understood. I will go at once."_

 _"Kirei, go ahead first. I need to discuss something with Mr. Tohsaka."_

 _Nodding at his father's words, Kirei stood up from his seat, and with a silent bow, left alone._

 _Remaining in the room, Tohsaka Tokiomi and Father Risei silently watched as Kotomine Kirei left._

 _"That's a reliable son you have, Kotomine."_

 _"His strength as an Executor is guaranteed. None of his colleagues were as studious as he during training. I'm the one you should be doubting."_

 _"Ho! Is that the exemplary attitude of a defender of the faith?"_

 _"Oh, it shames me to say it, but this Kirei is the only pride of a senile old fool like me."_

 _The old priest was known for his rigor, but feeling at ease with Tokiomi, he smiled. As his eyes turned to his only son, his trust and love showed clearly._

 _"Still childless past the age of fifty, I had given up on a heir... But now, I am amazed at how far my son has come."_

 _"Though, he agreed more easily than I thought, didn't he?"_

 _"My son would jump in a fire if that was the will of the Church. That's how far he would go for his faith."_

 _Tokiomi did not mean to doubt the words of the old priest, but his impression of the faith demonstrated by Father Risei's son was not quite that of passion. The quiet appearance of the man called Kirei felt more nihilistic to him._

 _"To be honest, that was disappointing. No matter how I look at him, it seems to me that what he had gotten involved in is of no concern to him."_

 _"No... This might really be his salvation."_

 _Father Risei, looking gloomy, muttered ambiguously._

 _"To share a private matter, his wife died a few days ago. They hadn't been married for even two years."_

 _"Oh, I—"_

 _Met with this unexpected circumstance, Tokiomi was at loss for words._

 _"Though he does not show it—he seemed to endure it fairly well—he has too many memories in Italy. Maybe, for Kirei right now, returning to his old fatherland for a new mission could help heal his wounds."_

 _Risei sighed at those words while Tokiomi gazed straight at him._

 _"Tokiomi-kun, does not one's true worth show as his hardship increases?"_

 _Tokiomi deeply bowed at the old priest's words._

 _"I am obliged. My debt to the Holy Church and both generations of the Kotomine family will be carved as a family precept."_

 _"Not at all. I am only fulfilling my oath for the future generation of Tohsaka. The rest is only praying for God's protection until your journey takes you to the Radix."_

 _"Yes. My grandfather's regrets, the dearest wish of the Tohsaka, this is what my whole life has ever been for."_

 _Hiding the suffocation his self-confidence endured from the weight of his responsibilities, Tokiomi nodded resolutely._

 _"This year, I will reach the Grail. I will make sure of that."_

 _At Tokiomi's display of dignity, Father Risei blessed the memory of his late friend._

 _"My friend... You too have a good heir."_

 _The wind of the Mediterranean sea rustled his hair. Kotomine Kirei returned from the villa atop the hill, alone and silent on the narrow winding path._

 _Now, in his mind, Kirei ordered his many impressions of the man Tohsaka Tokiomi, whom he had just met. Perhaps he had led a hard life. He was endowed with a firm dignity he could rightfully boast about, a pride that seemed to come from from experienced hardship. He understood that personality quite well. Kirei's own father was the same sort of person._

 _They were men who had defined the meaning behind their own birth and existence, and followed it without any doubt. They never wavered, and they never hesitated. Forged into an iron will with a clear objective, vectorized only by the fulfillment of something— that was their lifelong goal, in all aspects of their life. The form of this conviction could be, in the case of Kirei's father, a pious faith; in Tohsaka Tokiomi's case, perhaps it was the self-confidence of one who was chosen—a privilege not for the plebeians—and the self- consciousness of one with a responsibility to shoulder. He was one of the few remaining genuine aristocrats, hardly found these days. From that point on, Tohsaka Tokiomi's existence would probably hold important implications for Kirei... Even so, he and Kirei were incompatible. Tokiomi was essentially similar to his father._

 _Those who saw only their own ideals could never understand the pain of those unable to have one. People like Tokiomi had a sense of purpose at the base of their convictions, but such a thing was totally absent in Kotomine Kirei's mind. Not once in over twenty years had he ever felt such a sensation._

 _By such judgment, he could not consider the most noble idea, could not have comfort in any quest, could not find rest in any pleasure. Such a man could not have anything like a sense of purpose in the first place. He could not understand how he had become so far removed from the world's values. Kirei could not even find a passion to throw himself into._

 _He still believed there was a God, a supreme existence, although he had not the maturity to perceive it. He lived believing that one day, the holiest word of God would lead him to the supreme truth and save him; he lived betting on that hope, clinging onto it. But deep in his heart, he already knew—that salvation for a man like him could no longer come from the love of God._

 _Confronted with such anger and despair, he was driven to masochism. Under the pretense of penance for moral training, he wounded himself repeatedly. But those tortures forged Kirei's body like iron. Before he realized it, he had risen to the top of the elite of the Holy Church, as an Executor, a position few could follow him to._

 _Glory in the eyes of others; Kotomine Kirei's self-control and devotion were praised as a model for the clergy by all. His father, Risei, was no exception. Kirei understood very well why Kotomine Risei had so much faith and admiration for him, his own son, but that was a gross misunderstanding. In reality, his heart was shameful. Amending this misunderstanding would probably take longer than a whole lifetime. To this day, no one understood how much Kirei lacked. Yes, not even the only woman he loved—_

 _Feeling lightheaded, Kirei lightened his pace and put his hand to his forehead. As he tried to remember his late wife, diffuse thoughts scattered and were lost in a rising mist. His mind before a precipice in heavy fog, survival instinct told him not to take a single mental step forward._

 _Before he realized it, he had arrived at the bottom of the hill._

 _Kirei stopped and looked back at the faraway villa at the top. He still had not reached a satisfactory conclusion in his interview with Tohsaka Tokiomi... That problem was of greatest concern to him. Why had a miraculous power like the Grail chosen Kotomine Kirei? Tokiomi's explanation was a desperate one. If the Grail sought a supporter for Tokiomi, there were many capable people who were worthy friends; Kirei was not the only one. There must have been a reason to his selection for the next Grail's appearance. Yet... The more he thought, the more Kirei found the inconsistency worrying. He essentially had no sense of purpose, nor any ideal or aspiration. From any perspective, he had no reason to be the bearer of a miracle like an "almighty wish-granting machine."_

 _With a gloomy face, Kirei looked at the three symbols that had appeared on the back of his right hand. They said the Command Seals were a holy mark. Three years from now, would he find a pledge to carry?_

* * *

 _One Year Ago..._

 _He immediately recognized the woman he was looking for._

 _In the early holiday afternoon, bathed in the peaceful light of early autumn, you could see children playing on the lawn, their parents watching over them, smiling. The plaza around the fountain of the park was overcrowded with townspeople who had brought their families to relax._

 _Even in such a crowd, he did not lose his track. No matter how crowded, no matter how far, he was certain he could find her effortlessly—even if his chance of meeting her once a month was uncertain, even if she already had a partner._

 _Only when he walked up to her did the woman in the tree shade notice his arrival._

 _"—Hey, I haven't seen you in a long time."_

 _"Oh—Kariya-kun."_

 _Smiling modestly and courteously, she lifted her eyes from her book. She was worn out. Seeing her like that, Matou Kariya was seized with a helpless anxiety. Something seemed to be tormenting her._

 _He immediately inquired about it, hoping to do all he could to solve the matter whatever it may be. Although touched by the gesture, it was something she could not discuss with Kariya. He was not so close that he could devote such unreserved kindness; it was not his place to do so._

 _"It's been three months. The trip was pretty long this time."_

 _"Ah... Eh, yes."_

 _Her smile appeared in his sweet dreams, but standing before her, he could not find the courage to look her in the eye. It had been that way for the past eight years. Kariya would probably never be able to face that smile in the coming years either. She made him so nervous that he never knew what to talk about after the initial greeting; his mind drew a blank. That, too, happened every time._

 _Kariya looked for the one he could talk to easily, to break the awkward silence—there she was, playing on the grass among the other kids, her two ponytails dancing about happily. Though still very young, the girl already displayed traits of her mother's beautiful face._

 _"Rin-chan."_

 _Kariya called, waving a hand. As soon as she noticed, Rin rushed toward him with a bright smile._

 _"Welcome back, uncle Kariya! Did you bring me another present?"_

 _"Now, Rin, watch your manners..."_

 _The young girl was oblivious to her mother's embarrassment. Rin's eyes shone with expectation, and Kariya, responding with a mirrored smile, held out one of the two presents he carried behind his back._

 _"Waah, beautiful..."_

 _An elaborate brooch of various-sized glass beads captured the girl's heart at first sight. It was a bit too fancy for a girl of her age, but Kariya was well aware of Rin's precocious tastes._

 _"As always, thank you Uncle. I will take care of it."_

 _"Haha! If you like it, Uncle is happy too."_

 _Gently stroking Rin's head, Kariya looked for the other present's intended recipient. She was nowhere to be found in the park._

 _"Say, where's Sakura-chan?"_

 _Rin's smile vanished immediately. All thought seemed to cease on the face of the child, resigned to a reality she was forced to accept mindlessly._

 _"Sakura. She's... already gone."_

 _Blankly, Rin reply in monotone. Avoiding Kariya's questions, she ran back to the kids she was playing with earlier._

 _"..."_

 _Bewildered by Rin's incomprehensible words, Kariya looked at Rin's mother questioningly, then with sudden realization. She turned her eyes away, looking gloomily at empty space._

 _"What does that mean...?"_

 _"Sakura is neither my daughter, nor Rin's sister, anymore."_

 _Her tone was dry, but more courageous than Rin's._

 _"She has gone to the Matou family."_

 _Matou—The name, at once deeply familiar and abominable, violently ripped at Kariya's heart._

 _"That can't... What the hell does that mean, Aoi?!"_

 _"You shouldn't even need to ask, right? You of all people, Kariya."_

 _Rin's mother, Tohsaka Aoi, returned the harsh, cold-hearted reply with indifference, never looking at him. Kariya's heart was crushed._

 _"You of all people should know why the Matous need a child of wizard ancestry to succeed them, shouldn't you?"_

 _"How... could you... accept that?"_

 _"That was what he decided. It was the decision of the Tohsaka family head, acceding to a request from their old, sworn friends, the Matous... My opinion does not matter."_

 _For that reason, mother and child, older sister and younger sister, were forcefully separated. Of course she would not agree._

 _But Aoi—and even the young Rin—understood well why they could do nothing but accept it. That was what it was like to live as a magus. Kariya knew that cruel fate all too well._

 _"... Are you fine with it?"_

 _Aoi replied Kariya's stony voice with a feeble, bitter smile._

 _"When I decided to marry into the Tohsaka family, when I decided to become the wife of a magus, I was prepared for something like this. For one belonging to a wizard's bloodline, seeking the happiness of a normal family is a mistake."_

 _Facing Kariya as he tried to speak again, the magus wife gently but firmly stopped him—"This matter is between the Tohsakas and the Matous. It does not concern you, who turned your back on the world of magi." She finished with a slight nod._

 _With this, Kariya could not move. His chest choked from weakness and helplessness, like one of the park's trees._

 _Since a long ago, when she was a girl, then when she became a wife, and even after she had two children, Aoi's attitude toward Kariya had never changed. Three years older than him, and a friend since their infancy, she had always attended to Kariya, kindly and without constraint, like a real sister to a brother. This was the first time she had pointed out their respective positions so clearly._

 _"If you ever get to see Sakura, please treat her kindly. She has always been fond of you, Kariya."_

 _Aoi watched over Rin, who was playing brightly and full of energy, trying to chase her grief away. She showed him only the profile of a peaceful mother on holiday. Rin's behavior seemed to reply on their behalf, pushing the speechless Kariya beside her._

 _But Kariya did not miss it. There was no way he could miss it. The firm, serene Tohsaka Aoi, who had accepted her fate—even she could not completely conceal the tears gathering at the corner of her eyes._

 _Kariya hastened through the scenery of the hometown he thought he would never see again. Each time he returned to the city of Fuyuki, he never crossed the bridge to Miyama town._

 _It must have been ten years since then. Unlike the Shinto area where business went on everyday, nothing had changed in this neighborhood where time seemed to stop. Quiet streets were filled with memories, but no pleasant ones would come to mind if he stopped to look. Ignoring worthless nostalgia, Kariya ruminated over his dialogue with Aoi from an hour ago._

 _"... Are you fine with it?"_

 _The thoughtless reprieve Aoi threw at him as she turned her eyes away. He had not used such a sharp tone for several years. Raise not your eyes, be not a bother. That was how he had lived. Anger, hatred—Having left it all behind in the desolate streets of his hometown Miyama, Kariya never made a fuss over anything. Even the foulest, ugliest matters were nothing compared to the things he hated in this land._

 _It must have been eight years since his voice last harbored such feelings. That time—had he not used the same tone, the same words, with the same woman?_

 _"Are you fine with it?" He had shot the same question then. Turning to his childhood friend, the night before she took the name Tohsaka._

 _He never forgot her expression at that time. She had given a small nod, seemingly sorry and apologetic, blushing shyly. Kariya had been defeated by that quiet smile._

 _"... I was prepared. It was a mistake to seek the normal happiness of a family..." Those words were a lie._

 _That day eight years ago, when she was proposed to by the young magus, her smile definitely showed her faith in happiness. Kariya fully accepted his defeat because he trusted that smile. Perhaps only Aoi's fiancé could make her happy._

 _That was a mistake. He, of all people, should have realized that fatal mistake. Had he not rejected his fate and left his family because he fully realized how despicable magecraft was?_

 _He could still forgive himself for that. But he, who had turned his back in fear, who was well aware of how abominable magecraft was, could not forgive one thing—his woman had surrendered to one of those hated magi._

 _Kariya's chest burned in regret. He had chosen the wrong words, not once, but twice. His words should not have been "are you fine with it?", but rather, "you must not do that."_

 _Eight years ago, if he had restrained Aoi, there might have been a different future. If she had not bound herself to Tohsaka that day, she would have been lifted from the cursed doom of a magus, and could have led a normal life._

 _If he had reacted differently today, to the decision between the Tohsakas and the Matous, it would probably have shocked her. She would likely reject the nonsense of an outsider._

 _Even so, she should not blame only herself. She should not need to suppress her tears completely. Kariya could not forgive himself for repeating the same mistake. As punishment, he would return to the place he had left behind. Certainly, there would be some way to atone there—the world he once turned his back to, the fate he clumsily escaped._

 _But now, he could confront that, if he thought of the only woman in the world he did not want to grieve—_

 _Under the sky of the nearing twilight, he stopped in front of a towering, luxuriant western-styled house. After ten years, Matou Kariya stood before the gate of his home once again._

 _Starting at the front door inside the Matou residence, where Kariya settled on a sofa in the drawing room, a small but risky dispute soon broke out._

 _"I thought I told you never to show yourself before me again."_

 _Sitting facing Kariya, the small, old man who spat the detestable words was Matou Zouken, the head of the family. He was so withered that his bald head and limbs made him look mummified, yet a light deep in his eyes filled his spirit; both his appearance and personality made him an uncommon, mysterious person._

 _Truthfully, not even Kariya could determine the old man's exact age. The aberrant entry in the family register showed he was the brother of Kariya's father. But since the time of his great- grandfather—his ancestor in the third generation—there were records of an old man named Zouken in the family tree. There was no way to find out how many generations this man had reigned over in the Matou family._

 _He was a magus who could be considered immortal, having stretched his lifespan again and again, a person at the root of the Matou bloodline with little direct connection with Kariya. He was a genuine specter still surviving in the current era._

 _"I caught wind of something inexcusable. About how the house of Matou was disgracing itself in outrageous manner."_

 _Kariya readily admitted that the magus he now faced was powerful and unequaled in cruelty. Here was a man who was the personification of everything Kariya had come to hate, despise, and scorn throughout his existence. If that man were to kill him, Kariya would sorely hate him at his life's end. Ten years ago, Kariya had faced that strong spirit and escaped the Matous, thus earning his freedom._

 _"I heard you took in the Tohsakas' second daughter. Do you want to preserve the Matou lineage of magi so badly?"_

 _Zouken scowled at the provocative tone of Kariya's inquiry. "Do you want to talk about it? Nothing else to say? Who do you think is responsible for the downfall of the Matous? Byakuya's son turned out to be devoid of Magic Circuits. The pure-blooded Matou line has collapsed with this generation. But you are one who has the basis of a magus, Kariya, more than your big brother Byakuya did. If you had obediently accepted your heritage and inherited the secrets of the Matous, we'd not be pressed by circumstances. This is all yours..."_

 _Kariya snorted, deflecting the threatening attitude of the old man who was getting fired up, and foaming at the mouth._

 _"Stop this comedy you vampire. What's the big deal about preserving the Matou family line? Don't make me laugh! Nothing would happen to you even if there is no new Matou heir. This discussion is pointless; you will continue to live for another two hundred years, or even a thousand years, eh?" Zouken gave a leery smile, as though his anger up to now was a lie. Kariya had guessed correctly. That was the smile of a monster that treated human emotions as mere splinters._

 _"As always, you are a loveless fellow. You speak and behave frankly."_

 _"Whatever. That's how you trained me. I'm not one to beat around the bush."_

 _A wet sound came out of the depths of the old man's throat; he seemed to be laughing pleasantly._

 _"That's right. You will probably outlive me in the distant future, longer than Byakuya's son would. Still, it is a question of how long I can guard this body against its inevitable rotting. Even if a Matou heir is not needed, a Matou magus is required. To obtain the Grail, that is."_

 _"... In the end, that's what your goal is?"_

 _Kariya's guess went well. It was immortality that this old magus was firmly chasing after._

 _The wishing-machine called the Grail could fulfill that once it was completed. What was choking this monster, refusing to die even after centuries, was the hope in this miracle._

 _"Next year marks the end of the sixty-year cycle. But in the fourth Holy Grail War, there will be no player from the Matous. Byakuya does not have a prana level high enough to summon a Servant. He does not have the Command Seals. But even if we must desist in this battle, we still stand a chance at the next one sixty years later. There is no doubt that an excellent magecraft user can be born from the Tohsakas' daughter. I expect great things from this one; she will be a good vessel."_

 _The face of Tohsaka Sakura appeared on Kariya's eyelids. A late bloomer, always behind her sister Rin; a frail-looking girl. A child far too young to bear the cruel fate of a magus._

 _Swallowing his seething rage, Kariya feigned a calm attitude. Right here and now, he was negotiating with Zouken. There was nothing to gain from being emotional._

 _"If that's all there is to it, if you want the Grail, there's no need to involve Tohsaka Sakura, right?"_

 _Zouken's eyes narrowed, suspicious of the hidden meaning in Kariya's words._

 _"You... What trick do you have in mind?"_

 _"A deal, Matou Zouken. I will bring the Matous' name to the next Holy Grail War, and you will release Tohsaka Sakura."_

 _Taken aback only long enough to draw a breath, Zouken sniggered scornfully._

 _"Kha, don't be stupid. Could a failure who never studied anything be the Master of a Servant in just one year?"_

 _"You have the secret to make it possible, don't you? Put those worm-using skills you're so proud of to use, old man." Kariya went straight to the point, staring head-on into the eyes of the old magus._

 _"Plant your Crest worms in me. You can do that to the flesh and blood of the filthy Matous. Compatibility should be far better than with a daughter of another family."_

 _Zouken's humanistic expression changed, and he was a magus again, betraying no emotion._

 _"Kariya—do you want to die?"_

 _"Don't tell me you're worried, 'Uncle'?"_

 _Realizing that Kariya was serious, Zouken coldly evaluated Kariya, gazing at him, and then took a deep breath._

 _"I had always hoped to see more from you than from Byakuya. If we expand your Magic Circuits with the Crest worms and train you thoroughly for a year, there's a chance the Grail will select you... Still, I don't understand. Why would you go so far for a little girl?"_

 _"Let the Matous' tenacity be carried by Matou hands. Outsiders should not be involved."_

 _"Again with your admirable dedication."_

 _Zouken displayed a complacent smile, full of his evil disposition. He seemed to be enjoying it._

 _"But Kariya, if your purpose is to not get anybody involved, aren't you a little late? Do you know how many days it has been since the daughter of Tohsaka came to our family?"_

 _Despair rushed in, crushing Kariya's chest. "Old man, you mean—"_

 _"There were terrible cries for the first three days, but she was silent by the fourth day. Today, she was thrown into the worm storage at dawn to see how long she would last, but, ho ho, she endured it for half a day and still breathes. What do you know? Tohsaka material certainly isn't defective."_

 _Kariya's shoulders shivered with murderous intent, provoked by something greater than hatred. He wanted to seize this evil magus by the neck, strangle him with all his strength and break it off, right this instant—the impulse raged madly inside Kariya._

 _But Kariya accepted it. Even though he was thin to the point of withering, Zouken was a magus. Kariya could not possibly kill him off right here; he did not have even a fraction of the power required to do that. To save Sakura, there was no other way but negotiation. Seeing through Kariya's self-conflict, Zouken let out a satisfied, gloomy chuckle._

 _"So, what will you do? The little girl is already broken, filled from head to toe with the worms. But if you still want to save her, well, I won't think twice."_

 _"... I have no objection. Let's do it."_

 _Kariya replied in a chilling voice. Of course, he had no other choice._

 _"Excellent, excellent. Well, we can still train you as much as possible. But know that I will continue Sakura's training if you do not make any progress." He cackled gleefully. The good mood of the old magus was making a fool of Kariya and his rage and despair._

 _"Rather than reinstating a failure who betrayed us, the success rate with a child is far higher. I favor getting the best out of each opportunity as it comes along. I am giving up on the Holy Grail War this time, since I already consider it a lost battle. But in the one-in-a- million chance that you did manage to obtain the Grail—I agree. If that happens, naturally I would have no business with Tohsaka's daughter, having accomplished the one thing I am training her for."_

 _"... You're not double-dealing, are you? Matou Zouken?"_

 _"Kariya, if you think you need to be five-faced to face me, try enduring the Crest worms first. Yes, try nursing the worms with your body for a week first. If you haven't died of insanity by then, I will take it that you are indeed serious."_

 _Leaning on his cane and straightening his back with difficulty, Zouken turned toward Kariya, wearing an alien smile that fully displayed his wickedness._

 _"Then, let us begin the preparations without delay. We will finish the treatment immediately. If you want to reconsider, do it right now."_

 _Nodding silently, Kariya discarded all final hesitation. Once he let the worms inside his body, he would be Zouken's puppet. There would be no way to rebel against the old magus. If he could even qualify as a magus, Kariya and his Matou blood would definitely receive the Command Seals._

 _Holy Grail War—the only chance of salvation for Tohsaka Sakura; a choice he would never be able to reach with this flesh and blood. He might lose his life in this exchange. Even if he did not get taken down by the other Masters, his flesh would be devoured by the worms as he raised them—even for only a year—and he would not have more than a few years to live._

 _But that did not matter. His decision had come too late. Had he showed the same determination ten years ago, Aoi's child would be living peacefully with her mother. The fate he refused had been passed around, and had fallen on a blameless girl. There was no redemption for that. If there was a path to atonement, it could only be through returning the girl's life to normalcy._

 _In addition, if he had to completely wipe out the remaining six Masters to reach the Grail... Among those who brought tragedy to the girl named Sakura, there was at least one person he could bring a requiem to._

 _"Tohsaka Tokiomi..."_

 _As the head of one of the Three Families of the Beginning, there was no doubt that he would bear the Command Seals. A dwelling hatred had been building up to this day, one unlike his sense of crime toward Aoi, and his hatred toward Zouken. A dark feeling of revenge had quietly started to burn, like a banked fire, in the depths of Matou Kariya's heart._

* * *

 _285 Hours Ago..._

 _Nobody had ever understood Waver Velvet's talent._

 _As a magus, he was neither born of famous lineage, nor lucky enough to have met a good master._

 _The youth's education was largely self-taught, and he was finally fortunate enough to be accepted by the Magus Association, which controlled magi across the world, into its headquarters—the London educational institution known as Clock Tower. Waver believed without a doubt that this cause was incomparably honorable, and was also very proud of his own talent. "I am the most capable student of Clock Tower since its founding. Everyone would have to respect me." At least, that was what Waver thought of himself._

 _In truth, the magus lineage of the Velvets only stretched three generations. Waver's Crest concentration and Magic Circuit quantity paled in comparison to those from well-established magi families. With each generation, the number of Magic Circuits and concentration of Crests constantly increased and expanded. In Clock Tower, many of the students who had received scholarships came from families with more than six generations of pure magi blood._

 _The wonders of magecraft could not be taught to completion within one generation. The results of a lifetime's research by the parents are passed on to their children; only in this way could magecraft become increasingly refined. For this reason, those with a longer magus lineage tended to have stronger prana. Furthermore, although the quantity of a magi's Magic Circuits were already determined at birth, there were some ancestral magi families that deliberately contrived to increase the amount of Magic Circuits in their offspring, hoping to distance themselves from newer Magi families. Advantages within the world of magecraft could then be predetermined even before birth. This was a commonly accepted point of view._

 _Waver did not see it that way. Differences in ancestry could be compensated by building one's experience. Even without exceptionally developed Magic Circuits, the difference in quality at birth could be bridged by a deep understanding and skilled utilization of magecraft. Waver had always deeply believed that._

 _He believed himself to be an excellent example of that, and strove to show off his abilities._

 _But reality was too cruel for such an ideal. Students who boasted about their ancestral bloodline, and students who endlessly pursued and flattered these students from ancestral bloodlines— they comprised the mainstay of Clock Tower, and determined its workings. The lecturers were no exception, expectant only of students from famous lineages. To a pauper-researcher like Waver, they were reluctant even to let him into the library to browse its tomes, let alone teach him magecraft._

 _Why should expectations of a magus's future depend on his lineage? Why should a theory's credibility depend on the experience associated with one's lineage? Nobody cared about Waver's questions. The lecturers tricked Waver with verbal flourishes when he presented his research thesis, then acted as though Waver had been convinced otherwise, laughing it off and ignoring it. It truly was unbelievable. This anxiety drove Waver to take action._

 _To expose the Magus Association's corrupt system, Waver wrote an exposition. It was titled An Inquiry of Magecraft's Path In the New Century, the result of three years of conceptualization and a year's writing. Viciously attacking traditional views, the painstakingly written exposition showed clear and intense thought, without a single flaw. If seen by the Inquisitors, it would definitely cause much unrest._

 _But—the lecturer from the Department of Eulyphis tossed it out after casually reading through it just once._

 _His name was Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald. He was the heir of the Archibald family with a magus lineage nine generations long, a popular man whom everyone addressed as Lord El-Melloi._

 _Engaged to the daughter of the principal; a lecturer at such a young age; he was the best of the best. He was also representative of the authority that Waver despised._

 _"A man given to delusions, such as you, is not suited to research, Waver." Lecturer Kayneth said in a condescending manner, without a shred of pity in his voice. Kayneth's ice cold gaze was a sight Waver would never forget. In the nineteen years of Waver's life, he had never been humiliated in worse fashion._

 _Since he had the talent to be a lecturer, it was impossible for him not to comprehend Waver's exceptional exposition. No, that man was probably jealous precisely because he understood. Afraid of Waver's hidden talent, he had grown jealous, and treated Waver as a threat to his own position. That was probably why he responded in such a violent manner upon reading Waver's exposition. Ripping an exposition of gathered wisdom; is this the attitude a scholar should assume?_

 _Unforgivable. His world-shaking talent had been arbitrarily written off by a figure of authority; there was no justice. But not a single person sympathized with Waver's frustration. The Magus Association was—from Waver's point of view—already corrupt to the core._

 _But... while putting up with these infinitely frustrating days, Waver heard a rumor. It was whispered that the reputed Lord El-Melloi, in the hope of adding another entry to his résumé for vanity's sake, had decided to join a nearby magecraft competition in the far East._

 _Waver began researching the details of this Holy Grail War overnight, and was deeply mesmerized by the horrific details._

 _The wish-granting Holy Grail, holding a huge amount of hidden prana at stake, summoned Heroic Spirits into the present world and commanded them as familiars, initiating a death match. Title, authority; everything was of little value in the face of such a reward._

 _The competition relied purely on true skill. The details were a little barbaric, but it was a simple yet fair method of judging superiority._

 _For an unrecognized genius, this was an excellent opportunity, an ideal stage to exhibit himself. Lady Luck had finally smiled on the excited Waver._

 _It began with the financial department's negligence. Waver was tasked to deliver, along with other normal parcels, a holy relic that Lecturer Kayneth had requested from Macedonia, even though it was a parcel to be opened only when Kayneth himself was present._

 _Waver immediately realized that it was a catalyst used to summon Servants in the Holy Grail War. And thus, he received a once-in-a- lifetime opportunity._

 _He no longer had even a shred of love left for the corrupt Clock Tower. The glory of graduating as a valedictorian was mere chaff compared to the honor brought by Fuyuki's Holy Grail._

 _The moment of Waver Velvet's victory in the war would be the same moment when those insignificant members of the Magus Association grovel at his feet._

 _From that day on, Waver left England, heading for the island country in the far East. Clock Tower immediately realized who had stolen Kayneth's parcel, but did not chase after him. No one was aware of his interest in the Holy Grail War._

 _But there was something Waver did not know. Everyone thought that he had done no more than hide Kayneth's relic in rage. No one thought he would risk his life knowingly to participate in a magecraft competition. Clock Tower had really underestimated Waver._

 _In the far East village, at the place that decided his destiny—Fuyuki City, Waver was hiding under the blanket of his bed, trying desperately to hold back peals of laughter. No, it was impossible to hold it back. Illuminated by the dim sunlight coming through the cracks of the curtain, he raised his right hand every few seconds, letting out some muffled laughter._

 _With the relic in his hands, himself in Fuyuki, and he a qualified magus... How could the Grail turn a blind eye to someone like that? Indeed, the patterns of the three-fold Command Seals had materialized clearly on Waver's right hand last night—proof of a Master who could summon a Servant. Even the ruckus made by the roosters in the courtyard as dawn drew near went unnoticed._

 _"Waver, breakfast time."_

 _The voice of the old woman calling him on the stairs sounded different this morning; it was less annoying. Wishing to begin that memorable day safely, Waver quickly began changing._

 _Although a backwater place for an island nation, Fuyuki City saw a lot of tourists from other places. Thanks to that, Waver's appearance, though obviously different from that of a Japanese, did not attract too much attention. Even so, Waver maintained utmost caution. He had cast a spell on the old couple, who lived alone all this time, making them think that Waver was their grandson who had returned from studying abroad. He had used the fake identity to live comfortably with great success. Also, he had no need to pay hotel rates; it was killing two birds with one stone. Things worked out perfectly and Waver began to admire his ability to adapt._

 _Seeking full enjoyment of the mild morning, Waver descended the stairs to the first floor kitchen and dining room, mentally filtering the cacophony of the crowing roosters. Like any other morning, the plebeian dining room table was decorated with scattered newspapers, while the news on television and the aroma of home cooking welcomed the freeloader openly._

 _"Good morning, Waver. Did you sleep well?"_

 _"Yes, Grandpa. I was sound asleep until morning."_

 _Waver answered with a smile while he spread jam thickly on his toast. The soggy bread cost only a hundred and eighty yen per catty, and was unpleasant to chew. The unsavory texture could only be mitigated with a thick spread of jam._

 _Glen and Martha Mackenzie had migrated to Japan from Canada more than twenty years ago, but their son could not get used to the Japanese lifestyle and decided to go back, starting a family in his home country instead. The grandson, raised in Japan until the age of ten, had also gone back. Not a single letter was sent, and they never visited again. Ten years had passed in this manner. The above information was obtained by Waver from the old couple through hypnosis. This kind of family was ideal for Waver. Planting hints in their memory, Waver transformed the old couple's impression of their grandson into his own image, successfully becoming their beloved grandson, Waver Mackenzie._

 _"But Martha, ever since dawn the chickens seemed to be very noisy. Do you have any idea how this happened?"_

 _"We have three chickens. Where did they come from...?"_

 _Hastily making up an excuse, Waver hurriedly swallowed the bread in his mouth._

 _"Ah, that... I have a friend who sent us his pet chickens to be taken care of for a few days. He's going on a trip and won't be home, so they'll be here temporarily. I'm returning them this evening."_

 _"Ah, so that's how it is."_

 _The couple did not really mind, and easily believed it. It was a good thing that these two old people were starting to lose their hearing; the incessant crows of the three chickens nearly annoyed the surrounding neighbors to death that day. But the one under the most stress was Waver. As soon as he discovered the Command Seals on his hand, Waver excitedly began preparing the sacrificial offerings needed for the ceremony._

 _He never thought that finding a nearby chicken farm would be so difficult. Finally finding one, he wasted nearly an hour trying to catch three chickens. He finally got home just as the sky began to grow bright, his body covered with chicken droppings and his hands pecked bloody._

 _Back in Clock Tower, animals used as sacrificial offerings were always prepared beforehand. Here, a genius magus such as him had fallen to such piteous state after merely catching three chickens; Waver almost cried out in lamentation. But as he stared at the Command Seals on his right hand until morning came, his mood gradually began to brighten. He decided to hold the ceremony that night. Those annoying chickens could live until then._

 _Waver wanted to have the strongest Servant. The relic hidden in the closet of the second floor bedroom; that would be the catalyst for summoning a great Heroic Spirit. Waver already knew that much. The withered, half-decomposed piece of cloth was a piece of a cape that once hung on the shoulder of a king. Waver's Heroic Spirit would descend upon him during the summoning tonight, to guide him to the glorious Grail._

 _"... Grandpa, Grandma, I'm sending the chickens back to my friend's house tonight, so I might be a bit late. Don't worry about me."_

 _"Okay. Be careful; Fuyuki isn't too safe lately. That fabled serial killer has appeared once more. This world really is too scary."_

 _Eating cheap sliced bread at that long dining table, Waver was surrounded by life's greatest happiness. The noisy cries of the chickens only grated on his mood slightly._

* * *

 _282 Hours Ago..._

 _Kiritsugu and Irisviel went back to their own rooms. Opening the long box entrusted to them by the family head, they were mesmerized by its contents._

 _"Who would've thought? They were actually able to find this thing..." Kiritsugu, usually composed, seemed deeply impressed._

 _A scabbard, made of gold, and decorated with dazzling blue enamel; such luxurious equipment, in the class of crowns and scepters, should be called treasures, to attribute dignity and nobility which ordinary weapons did not possess. Engraved along the middle was an inscription written in long-lost Fairy Letters._

 _Inscribed on both Excalibur and Avalon, it proved that this scabbard was no work of man._

 _"... There is not the slightest flaw. Is this really the genuine relic made over a thousand and five hundred years ago?"_

 _"This thing is a type of Conceptual Weapon. It suffers no physical deterioration, and it is a holy relic that will be used as a catalyst. This treasure belongs to the realm of magic." Irisviel took the golden scabbard out of the lined box carefully, holding it in her hands. "Legend says that keeping this scabbard on one's body will heal one's wounds, and stop aging... Of course, those are magical powers provided by its original owner."_

 _"This means that as long as the summoned Heroic Spirit is functional, this thing can be used as a Master's Noble Phantasm."_

 _The scabbard's ingenious one-of-a-kind design and exceptional beauty entranced Kiritsugu, but in just a few moments, his train of thought quickly turned toward ways of using it as a tool. Watching Kiritsugu, Irisviel could not help but show a small, bitter smile._

 _"That's so like you. A tool is a tool no matter what, right?"_

 _"If you put it that way, Servants are the same too. No matter how famous the hero, as long as it is summoned as a Servant, to the Master he is a tool. It is impossible for one with unrealistic expectations of one's Servant to win this war."_

 _Quite unlike his personality as a father or husband, Emiya Kiritsugu became extremely callous once he adopted the attitude of a soldier. Before she understood her husband more thoroughly, Irisviel had been really afraid of Kiritsugu when he was like that._

 _"Only someone like you would be worthy of this scabbard— that was Grandfather's judgment."_

 _"Is that really how it is?" Kiritsugu's expression was one of obvious dissatisfaction. If old man Acht knew how his hired son-in-law had reacted to the holy relic he spent so much effort searching for, he would certainly be speechless from rage._

 _"Are you dissatisfied with Grandfather's present?" Irisviel did not blame Kiritsugu at all for his impertinent remarks, but thought the question would be amusing._

 _"Why would I be? He has done more than enough for us. No other Master could possibly have gotten a trump card as good as this."_

 _"Wherefore this dissatisfaction then?"_

 _"The Heroic Spirit summoned from such a perfect holy relic would definitely be the one we want. But his personality and mine are far too different. The nature of the summoned Heroic Spirit is heavily affected by the Master's personality. Theoretically, all summoned Heroic Spirits should have personalities similar to their Masters'. However, the holy relic's origin overrides this determinism. The more explicit the origin of the holy relic, the more likely the summoned Heroic Spirit will be locked to a particular identity."_

 _"... Which means you are uneasy about the contract with the King of Knights, right?"_

 _"Of course. No one else in this world could be more incompatible with the ways of the knight than I." Half-jokingly, Kiritsugu's lips curled in a slight smile. "A head-on battle is not my style; especially not death matches. If I attack, it will be from behind, while the enemy is asleep. With no regard for time or place, the purpose being only to eliminate the enemy most efficiently, using the method with the greatest probability of success... Do you think that prestigious knight would aid me in such battles?"_

 _Irisviel fell silent, staring at the shiny scabbard with great focus. Kiritsugu was the type of soldier who would attain victory by whatever means necessary. Undoubtedly, the personalities of Kiritsugu and the scabbard owner were definitely incompatible._

 _"... But isn't it such a waste? The owner of Excalibur is, no doubt, the strongest in the Saber Class."_

 _That is right. The glory-radiating scabbard was the only fit partner to that supreme sword. This was definitely the relic of the King of Knights, whose tale had been passed down in legends since medieval times—King Arthur._

 _"Indeed. Saber is already the strongest of the seven classes conjured by the Holy Grail. And if the King of Knights were to be my familiar... I would have a virtually invincible Servant. But the key question here is how to use this most powerful force effectively. Honestly, in terms of ease of control, Caster and Assassin would fit my style more closely."_

 _Just then, a light electronic sound—clashing with the extravagant nandi-flame-style decor of the room—interrupted their conversation._

 _"Ah, it is finally here."_

 _On the heavy black sandalwood table was a haphazardly placed notebook computer. The combination was a marvel, like a stitching machine on an operating table. Magus lineages with long histories had not discovered the convenience of technology; the Einzbern family was no exception. The small electronic device, strange beyond compare in Irisviel's eyes, was a personal item brought in by Kiritsugu. Rare was the magus who was not repulsed by the use of such machines; Kiritsugu was one such magus. When he requested the installation of a telephone line and power generator, a huge argument broke out between him and the old family head._

 _"... That sound—what is it?"_

 _"A report from a fellow I sent to infiltrate the London Clock Tower. I asked him to investigate the status of the participating Masters in this Holy Grail War."_

 _Kiritsugu sat in front of the machine and began operating the keyboard in a skilled manner. The LCD monitor displayed a new mail notification. That was the new technology known in the cities as the Internet—Irisviel had already heard an explanation of it from Kiritsugu. But her forced patience toward her husband showed that she could not comprehend any of it._

 _"Then let's go over what we know, Iri. Alright, of the seven Masters the Grail has chosen, we've identified four of them._

 _"Tohsaka Tokiomi, Tohsaka family head. Fire mage, specializing in jewel magecraft._

 _Matou Karia—The Matou family seems to have forced that failure, who could not succeed as the head of family, into being a Master. What nonsense... That old man must be desperate._

 _Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald—the first-rate lecturer from Clock Tower. Possessing both wind and water attributes, an expert proficient in necromancy, summoning and alchemy. He is currently the most renowned magus in the Association. How troublesome._

 _And the fourth Master is representing the Holy Church... Kotomine Kirei. Originally the representative of the Assembly of the Eighth Sacrament, he is the son of the supervisor, Father Kotomine Risei. Sent to Tohsaka Tokiomi to learn magecraft three years ago, then broke away from his teacher after being granted the Command Seals."_

 _Kiritsugu moved the screen with the cursor while browsing the detailed contents of the investigation. Watching her husband like this, Irisviel became extremely bored. Unnoticingly, she realized that at some point, Kiritsugu—who had been staring at the screen all this time—had suddenly put on a serious and tense expression._

 _"... What's wrong?"_

 _"This son of Kotomine. Even his past has been wiped—"_

 _Irisviel stood behind Kiritsugu and looked at the LCD monitor, following his pointed finger. To Irisviel, looking at text not printed on paper was very difficult, but seeing her husband's serious expression, she did not complain._

 _"... Kotomine Kirei. Born in 1967, accompanied his father Risei to the holy grounds since youth, graduated in '81 from the Theological College of Manresa St Ignacio... Skipped two grades, was the student council president. He seems to be quite an accomplished man." Kiritsugu nodded unhappily. "At this rate, he could definitely have reached the position of cardinal minister, but he willingly abandoned such an outstanding opportunity to join the Holy Church. In fact, he had lots of choices. Why did he choose to dedicate himself to such a secret organization of the Church?"_

 _"Perhaps he was influenced by his father? Kotomine Risei is part of the Holy Church too, right?"_

 _"If that's the case, he should have shared his father's goal of retrieving lost holy relics all along. Indeed, Kirei did join the same department as his father in the end, but prior to that he had been transferred three times, and was once chosen as an Executor as well. He was only over ten years old then, too. Such a job cannot be done without a certain amount of willpower."_

 _That was the Holy Church's bloodiest department, called "Shura's Den" because of its responsibility to punish heresies._

 _Gaining the title of Executor meant that he was a first-rate murderer, and signified that he had passed brutal, pious training to become mankind's weapon._

 _"Perhaps he is a faith fanatic. The younger they are, the purer; there is such a thing as having a fanatic love of belief that surpasses certain limits."_

 _Even after hearing Irisviel's opinion, Kiritsugu still shook his head._

 _"It's not that simple... If it was, then his situation in the past three years cannot be explained. If his faith was chaste, it would be impossible for him to transfer to the Magus Association; it seems to be an order from the Holy Church, or it's also possible that he was more faithful to the religious doctrine than the organization. But even this does not explain it, because there is no need to train in magecraft this seriously—Look. Tohsaka Tokiomi's report about Kirei, given to the Association. The scope of training included alchemy, spiritual evocation, summoning, divination... He is even more adept at healing magecraft than Tohsaka Tokiomi himself. What exactly is the reason for this enthusiasm?" Irisviel continued reading the document to the end, where the summary of Kotomine Kirei's ability was._

 _"... I say, this Kirei really is kind of strange, but is it worth it for you to scrutinize him to this degree? Although he seems very talented, he's not really much better than the others."_

 _"Ah, that's what I find strange." Kiritsugu patiently explained to an imperceptive Irisviel. "No matter what he does, he would never achieve first-rate level. All considered, he's not some sort of genius; just a normal man. But his rapid achievement of results solely through total effort is indeed scary. Certainly, he would have to exert ten or twenty times more effort than others to achieve this. But he always stopped short at the final step, transferring somewhere else with no lingering sentimentality. Everything he had laboriously built up... tossed out like trash."_

 _"..."_

 _"He clearly chose a lifestyle many times more exciting than others, but he never showed any affection to other people in his life either. This guy... is definitely a dangerous man." Kiritsugu concluded thus. Irisviel understood the meaning behind his words._

 _When he used the word troublesome, Kiritsugu did not mean that the opponent was a threat, not even the particularly thorny ones. The methods of dealing with such opponents, as well as the likelihood of success, were things that Kiritsugu was already eighty percent assured of. But if he rated someone as dangerous... Emiya Kiritsugu reserved that rating for opponents he had to fight wholeheartedly._

 _"This man does not believe in anything. He experienced so much because he was always seeking answers. Although in the end, he did not find anything... He is that kind of morally devoid man. If I had to make a guess at what lies in his heart, I would say it's probably filled with anger and despair."_

 _"... You are saying that this Executor is to you a more powerful foe than Tohsaka Tokiomi and Archibald are?"_

 _Pausing for a while, Kiritsugu nodded resolutely. "... A terrifying man. Indeed, Tohsaka and Lord El-Melloi are strong adversaries. But I think Kotomine Kirei's way of existence is more fearful."_

 _"Way of existence?"_

 _"This man's heart is completely empty. He has nothing that can considered a wish. But why would a man like this bet his life to fight for the Grail?"_

 _"... Is this not the intent of the Holy Church? Supposedly, they mistakenly believed that Fuyuki's Grail is the real relic, and targeted it because of this, isn't it?"_

 _"No. With only that level of motivation, the Grail would not have granted him Command Seals. He was chosen by the Grail as a Master; he must have some reason to obtain it. This inability to see his wish is precisely what makes him so terrifying."_

 _Kiritsugu sighed deeply, looking at the monitor drearily, attempting to fabricate something more of the character of Kotomine Kirei from the dull text._

 _"What do you think would happen if this kind of empty, desireless man obtained the Grail? This man's whole life was built from despair. The power of the wish-granting machine, the Holy Grail, might be tainted by the color of his despair."_

 _Kiritsugu was indulging his melancholy too much. In advice, Irisviel shook her head vigorously._

 _"What's stored within me, the vessel of the Grail, I will not give to anyone. When the Grail is filled, the one who has the privilege of owning it—it will only be you, Kiritsugu."_

 _The elders of the Einzbern wished only for the completion of the Grail; that was their sole desire... But for this young couple, there were wishes, dreams, to be realized after this had been achieved. Kiritsugu shut the lid of the notebook computer, and hugged Irisviel tightly._

 _"Whatever happens, we cannot afford to lose." Right now, as his wife, Irisviel was putting their own ambitions before her family's desire. Kiritsugu was deeply moved._

 _"... I found it—a way to use the strongest Servant's power most effectively."_

* * *

 _270 Hours Ago._

 _"A base, of silver, of steel._  
 _Of stone, the foundation,_  
 _Of the Archduke of the Contract._  
 _Hear me in the name of our Ancestor,_  
 _the Archmagus Schweinorg._  
 _Let the descending winds be as a wall._  
 _Let the gates in all directions be shut,_  
 _rising above the crown,_  
 _and let the tri-forked roads to the Kingdom revolve."_

 _In the basement workshop of the Tohsaka residence, identical preparations were being made for the same ritual. Tohsaka Tokiomi chanted the incantation loudly as he inscribed the magic circle, using not sacrificial blood but the molten essence of magical gems. To prepare for this day, Tohsaka had used up all the prana-filled gems stockpiled in his hoard. Beside him were the Kotomines, Risei and Kirei._

 _Kirei gazed intently at the holy relic on the altar. At first glance it looked like a broken fragment of a mummy, but it was apparently fossilized skin shed by the first snake in the world, in ancient times eons ago. Feeling a wave of fear, he shivered at the thought of the Heroic Spirit it would summon. Tokiomi's confidence was finally understood. No Servant could possibly defeat the Heroic Spirit Tokiomi had chosen._

 _..._

 _"Heed my words. My will creates your body."_

 _In a clearing surrounded by bushes, Waver Velvet began his preparation for the summoning ritual. The entire day, Waver's nerves had been so tautly stretched by the incessant crowing of the chickens that a ritual of purification for the mind was needed before the conduction._

 _The shape of the magic circle was drawn on the ground while the chicken blood used was still warm. He had practiced the procedure many times, drawing the four encircling patterns of departure quickly inside the summoning circle. No mistakes could be made._

 _"And your sword creates my destiny!" The scholar continued the chant. "If you heed the Grail's Call, and obey my Will and Reason, Then Answer My Summoning!"_

 _..._

 _"I hereby swear that I shall be all the Good in the world_  
 _I swear to be the force who will defeat all Evil in the world!"_

 _Pregnant with the foul odor of rot and dampness, a green darkness like the sea depths—this was the worm storage hidden deep beneath the grounds of the Matou residence, which stood on the hill of the small mountainous town._

 _Kariya Matou was preparing the summoning ritual at this moment, too._

 _"This time, give the summoned Servant the attribute Madness Enhancement!" Zouken declared loudly with an overjoyed face, openly welcoming the disastrous implications of his decision. "Kariya, as Berserker's Master, fight with all you've got."_

 _Kariya was different from the other magi; his Magic Circuits were other organisms living within him as parasites. The anguish that came from inciting them and activating his Circuits was incomparable to what the other magi faced. As he chanted the incantations, his limbs twitched in spasms, and blood seeped out from his burst capillaries. Sanguine tears flowed from the remaining intact eye on the right and dripped down his cheek. Kariya did not grow lax in his concentration. By thinking about his duty, he found the courage not to shrink away._

 _"Let thine eyes be clouded,_  
 _With the fog of Turmoil and Chaos…_  
 _Thou, who are trapped in a cage of madness,_  
 _And I, the Summoner, who holds thy Holy Chains!"_

 _..._

 _"—I make my oath here._  
 _I am the one who is become the virtue of all Heaven._  
 _I am the one who is covered with the evil of all Hades."_

 _And in the grand room of the distant Einzbern Castle, it was Kiritsugu who chanted the summoning ritual, a brilliant gold Scabbard placed in the alter in front of him._

 _Kiritsugu's sight darkened. The Emiya family crest, passed down through the generations and carved on his back, began to chant the incantation separately, as an individual entity, supporting Kiritsugu's magecraft. His heart, in a dimension that escaped his mind's control, began to beat rapidly like a hurrying clock hand._

 _Tormented by the prana gathered from the surrounding air, his flesh had already forgotten its function in a human body; instead, it now became a component of the mysterious ceremony, purely a circuit connecting the ethereal to the material. The severe pain created by this discord was enough to make one scream out loud, but Kiritsugu paid it no heed, concentrating instead on pronouncing his incantation. Even the presence of Irisviel, who stood beside him with her breath held, was no longer present in his consciousness._

 _..._

 _"Seventh Heaven Clad,_  
 _And the Great Words of Power,_  
 _Come forth from the Circle of Bindings,_  
 _Guardian of Balance!"_

As his prayers ended, Tokiomi felt the acceleration of the prana racing in his body reach its utmost limit. Thunder and lightning roared, accompanied by rolling clouds borne on a mighty wind. In the ferocity of a gale so violent that onlookers like Kirei could not open their eyes, the patterns of the summoning circle glimmered brilliantly. Finally, the Magic Circuits connected with a plane that lay beyond men... From the dazzling light shining forth, the golden silhouette of an upright figure emerged.

But... While the summoning was successful, there was an air of uncertainty in the room. Awed by august solemnity, Risei began to mutter dreamily in spite of himself. "... We have won, Kirei. Our battle is won..."

But to Tokiomi who saw the mist clear, all he could muster to say was, "Who...?"

* * *

Irisviel's heart strained as she saw the gold-blue glow fading around the silhouette. Kneeling in the middle of the circle, a young man clad in silvery-white armor, bowed in salute towards Kiritsugu.

"You did it..."Irisviel whispered, excitedly. Kiritsugu stared down at the bowing Servant, a look of half skepticism and half awe. Every creature who could see felt an ominous _presence, the Knight seemed to glow with power. And his lips finally parted, his deep voice rung in the airy room._

" **I ask of thee, art thou my Master?"**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Basically just the events of Fate Zero leading up to the Grail War. Mostly small changes, save for order of dialogue and character swapping, but I do have plans for more major changes in future chapters. Also, this was a long chapter by my standards, and I wouldn't expect this kind of consistency, though I will aim for a pleasing middle ground of 5-10k per chapter. 16182 words for the first chapter is a little much.

Also don't expect me to put many ANs in this, because I want the word count to be fairly accurately reflected instead of inserting a thousand words of fluff. If you would like to have an actual conversation, check the bio for contact.

I hope people enjoy this Chapter. R&R!

* * *

 **Update 7/4/2018:** Grammar fixes and word usage. Chapter name updated.


	2. Act II: False Start

_~5000 years ago..._

 _When the gods fashioned Gilgamesh, to her they gave a perfect form. The glorious sun Shamash bestowed upon her glory; Adad the terrible god of storms bestowed upon her courage. The great gods perfected her magnificence beyond all others, terrible like the great wild bull. Two thirds god they made her; one third human they made her._

 _Greater than other kings, lofty in stature, a hero born in Uruk, a wild and rampaging bull was she. She leads forth at the front, the leader; she brings up the rear, a trusted companion. She is a great net who protects her men, a thrashing flood-wave capable of devastating even walls of stone. As child of Lugalbanda, Gilgamesh is perfection in her strength, child too of the August cow, Ninsun, the goddess. Gilgamesh is tall, glorious, and terrific. It was her who cut open the passes through the mountains, who dug the wells on the slopes of the mountainsides, and who crossed the ocean itself, the great sea, to meet the sunrise, exploring every part of the whole world for the secret of life. It was her who by her strength alone reached Utnapishtim, the distant, who restored the holy places that the Flood had destroyed, and who for the teeming masses instilled the rites of heaven._

 _Who can rival Gilgamesh? Who might like her say "It is I who am king?" From the moment of her birth, her name has forever been Gilgamesh. Two thirds god they made her; one third man they made her. The Great Goddess herself planned the shape of her body; glory, beauty and perfection were bestowed on her by Nudimmud. Her cheeks were flush with smooth, white skin, and her hair was long, and delicate, and shined of gold. Her beauty was beyond compare, she was the most beautiful person on earth._

 _Gilgamesh went abroad in the world, but she met with none who could withstand her strength. But the men of Uruk muttered in their houses, "Gilgamesh sounds the tocsin for her amusement, her arrogance has no bounds by day or night. No son is left with his father, for Gilgamesh takes them all, even the children; yet the king should be a shepherd to her people. Her lust leaves no virgin to their lover, neither the warrior's daughter nor the wife of the noble; yet this is the shepherd of the city, wise, comely, and resolute."_

 _The gods heard their lament, the gods of heaven cried to the Lord of Uruk, to Anu the god of Uruk. When Anu had heard their lamentation the gods cried to Aruru, the goddess of creation, "You made her, Aruru, now create her equal; let it be as like her as her own reflection, her second self, stormy heart for stormy heart. Let them contend together and leave Uruk in quiet."_

 _So the goddess conceived an image in her mind, and it was of the stuff of Anu of the firmament. She dipped her hands in water and pinched off clay, she let it fall in the wilderness, and noble Enkidu was created. There was virtue in him of the god of war, of Ninurta himself. His body was rough, he had long hair like a woman's; it waved like the hair of Nisaba, the goddess of corn. Though he was innocent of mankind; he knew nothing of the cultivated land._

 _But when he departed for the world..._

* * *

 _221 hours, 31 minutes ago..._

From the Einzbern Castle window, a pair of jade eyes watched over the small figures of a father and daughter, playing at the entrance of the forest. The young man standing at the window was far from weak or transient. He had blonde hair, visibly light and soft, and wore an old styled suit that hung loosely from his modest physique. While the outfit suited this man as he stood in somewhat isolation, the atmosphere of the castle was cold, providing a stark juxtaposition between the lifeless building and the man's intense rigor. His presence brought not the coldness of ice, but the coolness of a clear pure stream instead. He did not fit the winter scenery of the melancholic Einzbern castle.

"What are you looking at, Saber?" Irisviel called out to the man at the window. Saber turned around.

"Kiritsugu and your daughter are playing outside in the forest."

Doubtful, perplexed, even frowning a little, his facial features stiffened. The slackless serenity of his strained look suited him far more than a hint of humor floating on a smile—he was that sort of rarity. Could one believe this young and dashing presence to be a materialized Heroic Spirit? But he definitely was Saber, one of the seven Heroic Spirits invited by the Grail, in the class of the strongest sword, a full-fledged Servant. Taking his side, Irisviel looked through the window.

That was the moment Kiritsugu rushed into the forest carrying Illyasviel on his back. "It's surprising to see Kiritsugu like that, aren't you?" Saber nodded honestly to the smiling Irisviel, From his position, he could not see the little girl's face, and only glimpsed the silver hair inherited from her mother. The shrill giggles he heard just before they left his field of vision certainly overflowed with joy; enough for him to surmise the harmony between the frolicking father and daughter. "To be honest, I was under the impression that my Master was a more cold-hearted person."

At Saber's words, Irisviel gave an embarrassed smile. "Well, it's not an unreasonable conclusion." Since his summoning, Saber had not received a single word from his Master Kiritsugu. Ultimately, Servants were only tools to serve their Masters, and magi treated them likewise. Nevertheless, Kiritsugu's attitude toward Saber was too much to bear. He was silent to him, ignored his questions, and barely looked at him; Kiritsugu kept pushing away the Heroic Spirit he himself had summoned. Saber was highly dissatisfied with his attitude, although he did not show it outwardly. Obviously, the Kiritsugu he was contracted to was far different from the man playing with his daughter outside the castle. "If this is Kiritsugu's true face, then I must have fallen in great disgrace with my Master …"

As Saber muttered, Irisviel chuckled unintentionally. His pained face displayed the emotions he usually hid behind his handsome profile. Saber became even more unsettled.

"This isn't funny, Irisviel."

"I'm sorry," Irisviel apologized, a smile still evidently on her face. "He understands your power. That man isn't such a brute that he would misjudge a Heroic Spirit of the Saber class."

"Then what is the reason for his distance?"

Saber wondered aloud, turning his attention from Irisviel back to the forest outside the castle.

"Who knows." Against Irisviel's fast answer, Saber could only falter, having no ready reply this time. " _I, Emiya Kiritsugu, am definitely incompatible with the Heroic Spirit Arthur—I'll leave it at that. Any attempt to talk will only end in mutual denial."_ Spending time with this proud Heroic Spirit, Kiritsugu would only find their minds too different from each other's. She could understand each side's complaint, and had as much compassion for each. That these two would never agree was, again, Irisviel's resigned conclusion.

"I thank you, Irisviel. Without a woman like you, I might have lost this Grail War without even fighting."

"The same to you. I want my husband to be the one to reach the Grail."

Fearing that incompatibility with the Heroic Spirit Arthur, Kiritsugu had come up with an unthinkable solution to this deadlock. Servant and Master would act in complete separation. There was no range limit on the Servant–Master contract. Whatever the distance, a Command Spell could control the Servant, and prana could be supplied as well, unless the Master was unconscious. Master and Servant stayed in close proximity only on mutual understanding. Prudence dictated that battle decisions were not to be left only to the Servant; the Master had to remain on the battle scene to control the Servant. Of course, Kiritsugu's independent actions, carried out without knowledge of Saber's actions, did not mean that he trusted him completely; he had entrusted to Irisviel the duty of overseeing Saber's actions as his agent.

That was not as reckless as it seemed. For instance, if Kiritsugu's Servant were to rebel, there was no fear that he would kill Irisviel, so long as he still wished for the Grail. Without Irisviel, even if Saber managed to defeat all the other Servants, he would not be able to reach the Grail. The vessel of the Grail that Irisviel carried was absolutely necessary for the Grail of Fuyuki to materialize.

Therefore, Saber had to defend Irisviel from the other Masters.

The irregular team formation was decided based solely on Kiritsugu's and Saber's respective battle tactics. The Heroic Spirit of the Knight, Saber, was a fighter with Servant abilities and Noble Phantasm properties geared for full frontal battle; he would never consent to any makeshift strategy that did not fit that. On the other hand, his Master, Emiya Kiritsugu, was essentially a hitman who planned clever schemes, and there was no possibility of the two of them ever coordinating anything extraordinary. Rather, as far as affinities go, Kiritsugu evaluation was that Irisviel would be a much better fit as Saber's partner. His wife, though a homunculus outcast, was still of the noble Einzbern family, and possessed a natural elegance and dignity from her upbringing. Irisviel definitely was the kind of lady a knight would devote his loyalty to.

In fact, within a few days of living together after the summoning, Irisviel and Saber had developed a mutual understanding and respect. The natural air of nobility Irisviel held was that of a princess of Saber's own era, and Saber's nobility was a perfect match with Irisviel's fine breeding. Therefore, the contractual Master, Kiritsugu, proposed that his wife Irisviel act as a substitute Master in his stead. It was a proposal Saber easily accepted. His problem really was that he felt uneasy cooperating with Kiritsugu. But having Irisviel as a substitute Master would be a more appropriate alternative than simply letting him swing his sword freely; that much was agreed upon. The two of them were under a master-and-servant relationship in accordance to the oath of a knight, different from the Servant contract; this was how they were now preparing for the Grail Ritual.

* * *

 _222 hours, 24 minutes ago…_

Zouken Matou was uncharacteristically cheerful. Not only had Kariya survived the summoning, but also succeeded in summoning a very powerful servant—the Berserker Class Servant.

Because of this success, Zouken allowed the failure of the Matou line to rest in preparation for the Grail ritual. The Old Man had spies implanted near the manors of the other two main families to see what would come of their preparations as well. It appeared that the other two families had had success with their summonings—but they would never expect what the Matou line has concocted for this decade's ritual. With a certain air of menace, the olden mage glanced towards the child he once deemed a failure, before retreating into his own quarters.

Said failure was collapsed in the hallway, sitting against the wall, clutching his every limb, unable to ignore the immense internal pain from the crest worm implant. The weakened Master coughed up blood, and the crest worms, disturbed by the sudden movement, began crawling under his skin.

"Soon…" the weakened now master managed to whisper. "Sakura will be saved from here…"

* * *

 _178 hours, 38 minutes ago..._

The saying about the hour when even trees sleep did not apply to magi and Servants. Especially so for a certain, rather eccentric Servant, the Caster of this Grail War. Though peculiar, Caster was no simpleton, and had many a handle on the complexity of being prepared during the darkness of the night. The magi gathered in the city of Fuyuki had dual interests. Standing on the hill of Miyama town, neither of the western-styled houses of Matou and Tohsaka fell behind in splendor.

Both Masters aiming for the Grail, the two landlords had lately been using low-grade familiars to patrol their castles left and right, day and night. Naturally, the master of the mansion must be ready, spreading a multitude of bounded fields around for detection and defense, even inside the mansion; it must be a stronghold in the magical sense. Stepping unauthorized into the bounded fields was all but safe, all the more so for the large mass of prana that was a Servant. It would be impossible to slip through the bounded fields of the fortress undetected, even for a spiritual body.

However, the impossible could always be made possible. Caster's workshop would make it so. His Territory Creation may be of smaller scale in contrast to other more focused Casters, but the chaos that he was able to manifest was on a scale of its own. Replicating the Presence Concealment of the Assassin Class was a laughing matter.

This Servant—Kotomine Kirei's—had a firm belief system. While unfortunate for Caster that he required his master to supply the prana, this little fact would hardly stop him from attempting to cause mayhem. This he decided could be best accomplished through the disabling of the great magus family's defenses.

The garden he was now sneaking into was not the Matou mansion's, which had been considered enemy territory for some time. It was the mansion of Tohsaka Tokiomi, who was his Master Kirei's ally.

Kirei had left explicit instructions to make sure his mentor was kept safe. Why would he worry so much for Tokiomi? Tokiomi seemed to have summoned the Servant Archer, but apparently, that Heroic Spirit must have been weaker than Kirei expected.

Caster gave a gleeful cackle at that, for even if his master left verbal instructions, what would such a maniac do but to disobey them entirely? The Devil's advocate he was. Obvious, he was not.

"Stay cautious. You must protect Tohsaka Tokiomi at all costs, but pay heed to Archer, for it will be quite troublesome if you anger my teacher's Servant." That was the order of his Master Kirei. If Caster were not the Genius he was, he would probably mess with Archer, and fall right into whatever trap that Servant would set. But it would have been easy to play upon the miscalculations of the Heroic Spirit summoned by Tohsaka Tokiomi.

Halfway through the garden, the blind spot of the bounded field vanished. From there on, the barrier had to be destroyed by physical means, and one had to progress while removing it. It was impossible to proceed while invisible in spirit form. Leaning over the shadow of the vegetation, Caster returned from spirit form to physical form, exposing his lanky body and ridiculously sized jester's hat. He could feel many eyes all over him from afar, different ones from the bounded field of the Tohsaka residence. The familiars of other Masters must be observing the Tohsaka residence from outside the barriers. As long as he remained unnoticed to Tokiomi himself, there was no need to worry about peeping Toms. Tokiomi's rivals for the Grail would never warn him of Caster's infiltration. If one competitor dropped, the others would remain as unconcerned spectators.

Snickering without a sound, Caster extended his hand at the first keystone binding the barrier—

The next instant, that hand was pierced by a spear flying from above, shining like a flash of lightning.

"... H?!"

Intense pain, terror, and above all, shock. The simple spear strike was completely unexpected, and Caster swung his head upward, looking for the thrower—no, there was no need to search.

On top of the roof of the Tohsaka residence, a golden shadow stood magnificently. The divine radiance stole even the dignity of the starlit sky, and put the moon to shame. Though Caster soon forgot the pain, now feeling immense glee at seeing the golden figure. He could only imagine what kind of havoc he could cause by eliminating Tokiomi from the Grail War right now—

"You worm crawling on the ground, whose pardon do you seek?"

The golden figure asked indifferently at Caster crouched on the ground, looking down at him with a pair of disdainful, burning crimson eyes.

"Do not look at me! Worms, the lowly creatures that they are, may look only at the ground when they die."

Around the golden shadow, more glows appeared, growing to a countless number. Suddenly sliding out of mid-air were swords and halberds, no two the same, all of them treasured weapons with dazzling ornaments. And all of them were aimed at Caster.

 _I cannot win_. Caster finally realized it. Winning against them is impossible. It was stupid to even think about facing them. They were able to hit Caster, a Servant; that golden shadow had to be a Servant too. And if they was stopping an invasion into the Tohsaka mansion, then their Master must be Tokiomi—In other words, he must be the Heroic Spirit Archer. _That's supposed to be weak...?!_

But Caster had taken the bait, from the ever mettlesome Kirei. Before such an overwhelming enemy, fear was—yes, there was no place for fear; there could only be despair and abandon. Slashing through the air with a howl, infinite shining blades rained down on Caster.

Caster felt the eyes of familiars observing from outside the place. The first Servant to fall in the fourth War of the Holy Grail met his unsightly end without even a retort, witnessed by the other Masters.

At the last moment, Caster understood the true intention of his Master, Kotomine Kirei, and of the leader, Tohsaka Tokiomi.

"Ehe, ehehe, hehehe–! Death is not the end, death is not annihilation! Death is—!"

* * *

Relaxing in a comfortable chair in his room, Tohsaka Tokiomi listened to the roar of the countless Noble Phantasms drilling the ground, tearing flesh to pieces.

"Well, things are looking up. Now ..."

The magus muttered to himself, his profile radiating a different glow from the one under the lamp shade. By its mere presence, the golden figure stood out in the dimly lit surroundings, like the one on the roof that had just executed the invader. Turning into spirit form to come back to Tokiomi's room, then switching back again to physical form, the Servant Archer stood proudly beside Tokiomi, who wore a look of satisfaction.

The figure looking around, clad in golden armor, stood straight and dignified. Archer had golden hair like a blazing flame, beautiful with an elegant face. The Servant's eyes, crimson like blood, were visibly not those of a human, and whomsoever was stared at could only wither before their mysterious radiance.

"You made me perform an extremely trifling duty, Tokiomi."

Tokiomi stood up from his chair and bowed respectfully, yet elegantly.

"I am sorry for your trouble, King among kings."

As Master to the summoned Servant, those were manners more humble than necessary. But Tohsaka Tokiomi expressed his gratitude without reserve to the Heroic Spirit he had summoned.

As one from a valued lineage himself, Tohsaka Tokiomi could discern nobility better than anyone else. The guest of honor Tokiomi had summoned to win this fourth Heaven's Feel; not a humble servant, but the greatest hero.

This person, Archer in the present era, was the King of Heroes, Gilgamesh, the tyrant who ruled ancient Mesopotamia. Part divinity, part human. As a hero, rooted in the oldest origin of mankind, Archer was counted among the oldest Servants.

Except that instead of the Man-God Ruler of Uruk from the stories, who stood before Tokiomi was a young woman in golden full-body armor.

Tokiomi firmly believed in the value of nobility. Even with the supremacy of the Command Seals or with the best contract, nothing could surpass rank. Even if she was a Servant, that golden young lady was one who deserved the highest honor.

"The outcome of tonight's event will save us a lot of complications. Having witnessed the power of the King of Heroes, no stray dog will try to bite in vain."

"Mm." Archer appreciated the truth in Tokiomi's words. Tokiomi and his upright attitude, lost in greater flattery than was necessary, also had no hope in this era. The King of Heroes understood that.

"In a little while, the field beasts will understand who the hunting lion really is. Please be patient until then."

"Very well. I will just walk off my boredom. This era seems fairly interesting."

At Archer's words, Tokiomi glossed his slight irritation over with a sour look. Certainly, the Servant he had contracted with was the strongest. But she gave him headaches whenever she wandered away for her selfish curiosity. In the present world, she had not spent a single entire night quietly in the Tohsaka mansion. Tokiomi devoted much effort to keeping Archer inside the mansion for Caster's raid tonight.

"Does this era please you?"

"Its ugliness is beyond salvation, but it holds love as it is. What matters is whether there exists here a treasure worthy of my fortune." Bragging with a cynical smile, Archer gazed at Tokiomi with her red eyes full of divine authority.

"If there is not one thing worthy of my favor in this world, the price for summoning me in vain will be heavy, Tokiomi."

"Rest assured. The Grail will definitely catch your attention, King of Heroes." Confident, Tokiomi replied without fear.

"That will be mine to decide ... Well, this is fine. For the time being, I will do as you say. Every treasure in this world is mine. Depending on the kind of treasure this Holy Grail is, I will not overlook the other curs who are fighting for it." With that haughty declaration, the King of Heroes turned her heels and canceled her physical form, vanishing like a mist.

"I will be your lion, and I expect to be amused. I will leave the details to you, Tokiomi."

Tokiomi dropped his head at the shadow voice without a shadow. He did not stop his act of reverence until the presence of the Heroic Spirit had disappeared from the room.

"... Well, well." The magus sighed deeply when the pressure from the golden man ceased.

Servants receive certain skills when they are assigned a class in the present world. These skills are abilities such as Assassin's Presence Concealment, Caster's Territory Creation, Saber's and Rider's Riding. Likewise, a Servant of the Archer class possessed the unique skill of Independent Action. This ability meant he could be severed from the prana-supplying Master and act autonomously; this is useful, for example, if a Master needed to concentrate all of his prana for a single large spell, or if the Master was injured and unable to supply enough prana. On the other hand, it becomes harder for the Master to have the Servant accompany him and be completely under his control.

As Archer, Gilgamesh's skill of Independent Action was A+ ranked. With this alone, she could use Noble Phantasms at will in battle and remain in the present world without the Master's backup. But with this, the King of Heroes was also able to ignore Tokiomi's inclinations and stroll around Fuyuki City as she wished. Constantly apart from each other, Tokiomi could never be fully aware of his own Servant's whereabouts, or of what she was doing. Having no interest herself in her own world, Tokiomi could not understand what amusement a person like the King of Heroes could find by walking around, watching the lives of others.

"Anyway, for now, I can let Kirei handle it. Everything is going as planned for the moment."

Snickering, Tokiomi looked down through the window at the garden. The excessive destruction gouged when Caster crept in made the scene look like it had been bombed.

* * *

"Caster... is dead?"

Disappointed by how quickly it had ended, Waver Velvet opened his eyes. Just a moment ago, he was spying over the complete reversal that took place in Tohsaka's mansion, and his vision now returned to the room he had gotten used to—on the second floor of the old couple's house, in which he lived in like a parasite. The image behind his eyelids just a while ago came from the vision of a rat familiar.

As the Grail War began, Waver made his first goal to observe the Matou and Tohsaka mansions. There was a detached villa owned by the Einzberns in the forest on the outskirts, but the magus from the North had not arrived yet, so there was no reason to observe an empty place. Nothing from either house had moved yet, and the Masters grew tired of waiting, wondering about raiding either the Tohsakas or the Matous; that was only wishful thinking to ease the observation, but they did not expect it to actually happen.

"Hey Rider, here's something new. Someone has just lost."

The giant, despite his Master's call, lay there on the floor and only responded with a "Hmf" devoid of motivation, without even turning around.

"..." Waver was downright peeved.

The Servant had been doing nothing but resting his pained muscles in his room—strictly speaking, it was someone else's room—yet Waver could not settle down. Rider had refused an order to return to spirit form when he was not doing anything, claiming he felt more comfortable in materialized form, and had been showing off his gigantic body all this time. Dragging out his materialization meant a large prana drain on the Master supplying his Servant. That was not a problem for Waver, but Rider certainly was being quite unmindful.

Harder to forgive was what Rider was doing with Waver's prana; which was ... well, nothing. Despite Waver's scorn, he just rested, relaxed, nonchalantly picking around in a dish and watching a rental video. Can you believe that Servant?

"Hey, did you hear me? Caster got done in. The Grail War officially started!"

"Hmm."

"... Hey!" As Waver's voice rose with excitation, Rider finally turned around halfway.

"Yeah, what about some caster guy? A mere spellcaster isn't much of an enemy, especially when you have magic resistance."

"..."

"Anyway, boy, what's amazing is that, here."

Rider turned back to face the CRT as he spoke more heatedly. The cassette was playing An Authentic Account of the World's Flying Force, part 4. With his mania for military affairs, Rider had gotten his hand on everything related, books and images alike. Of course, providing all of it was Waver's responsibility. Otherwise the giant Servant would walk into a library or video store, which was not fine with the Master.

"There, that big black B2 thing. It's wonderful. I'm thinking about buying ten of those."

"Just buy a country if you have that kind of money!" Waver spat his answer out of frustration, and Rider made a serious face, moaning "Oh yeah ..."

"Of course, funds are an important matter. Maybe I should plunder a city as rich as Persepolis."

Apparently, Rider had seriously considered conquering the world, and done his research on the wars of the current era. Even the information he had received from the Grail had limits—he did not know the price of a stealth bomber.

"For the most urgent matters, this Clinton man is a formidable enemy. He might be a stronger enemy than King Darius."

"..." Waver had been enduring stomachaches ever since he summoned that Servant. He would have a stomach ulcer by the time they get the Grail. Shutting the giant in front of him out of his consciousness, Waver tried to think positively.

At any rate, it was good that Caster was the first to fall. Waver was aware that his own Servant, Rider, with his combat abilities, was the type who would go full frontal in a fight. An enemy that planned clever tricks was a bigger threat—Caster fit that definition. The still unknown Assassin was also a problem—Assassin who could creep up without revealing himself was the most direct menace. The three main Knight classes—Saber, Lancer, Archer, then Berserker, who just riots his way through—are nothing to be afraid of. Rider's abilities and Noble Phantasms were enough to push them back and win.

"—So, how was Caster killed?" Sitting up cross-legged, Rider surprised Waver with his sudden question.

"... Eh?"

"Yeah, the Servant who beat Assassin. Didn't you see him?"

Waver faltered. He did see him—but, just what did he see?

"Must be that Tohsaka Servant ... I guess. Looked strong and aggressive, showing off with a lot of shiny golden things. It took only an instant, so I'm not sure..."

"That's what mattered, fool." Something exploded between Waver's eyebrows, and he yelled in shock. The unexpected pain and surprise made Waver fall off and tumble flat on his face.

That was Rider's finger, held bent by the thumb, then shot forward: a flick on the forehead. Waver's skin swelled red from the force. Again, the target of violence and abuse. Waver, confused between fear and frenzy, was at a loss for words. This was the second time he had been hit in his entire life, and by his Servant. Unable to inhale from anger, Waver moved his lips like a fish. Ignoring his upset Master, Rider drew a deep sigh.

"You know, if I fight, it's to win and survive. What will happen if you can't observe properly?"

Waver did not reply. Rider was right. He did not want to hear it from a Servant who did nothing but lie down, eat tea cakes, watch videos and read, but it was true that there were enemies who could pose a problem.

"Whatever. That shining goldie, or whoever, what kind of impression did he leave on you?"

"I… I told you that…" Waver trailed off. How could he even comprehend what he had just seen? It was as though one moment Caster was stuck at the mercy of the enemy Servant, and the next he was gone, blown to oblivion. Even through the eyes of his familiar, he could sense the immense amount of prana, and the number of weapons…

"... Oh right. Rider, Servants usually only have one Noble Phantasm, is that correct?"

"Generally, yes. Sometimes, there are Heroic Spirits who manage to get two or three. I myself am such a case." That's right, the night he arrived in the present world, Rider showed Waver a Noble Phantasm and said it was not his only trump card. "Eh, there's no sense in considering the number of Noble Phantasms. As you already know, Noble Phantasms are the crystallization of historical facts and anecdotes that made the Heroic Spirit famous, but they do not have to take the form of weapons; they can also be specific abilities or unique means of attack."

"So, launching twenty or so weapons could be a Noble Phantasm in and of itself…?"

"A sword that splits constantly? Yeah, I could see that. It has the potential of becoming a Noble Phantasm, yes."

Despite this conclusion, something about the vanity in Caster's death was different... Because Waver did see that not all the weapons that were launched were exactly the same. Each one of them were unique. _Could they all be Noble Phantasms?_ That couldn't be possible. There weren't two or three—there must have been hundreds of blades each pelting down on Caster. But when he brought it up with Rider, the large Servant replied flippantly.

"Oh well, that's fine—we'll know when we figure out the true identity of the enemy." Laughing heartily, Rider slapped Waver, deep in thought, on the back. The impact shook his spine and the small magus started choking. The blow this time was not humiliating, but Waver could appreciate the gentler touch.

"Ow—" Waver exclaimed out of reflex. "Are you done?!"

"Yes. My heart is in joy." Rider remarked carelessly with a daring smile. "Food and sex, sleep and war—enjoy yourself however you want. That's the secret to a man's life!"

"..."

Waver could not see the fun in that; he had no experience in two of those matters.

"All right, let's look for some fun outside." Cracking his neck, the giant Servant stretched. "We're departing for the front. Be ready."

"The, front ... Where?"

"Over there of course. Where else?"

"That's nuts!" Standing up and nearly reaching the ceiling, Rider looked down at Waver's angry face and smiled.

"You're not the only one who was observing the Tohsaka fort. Caster's death will be made public soon. Without a Servant that can stockpile mana, no one will need to form alliance. It's every man for himself, so we ought to find and hunt them down now."

"Find and hunt ... Like it'll be that simple."

"I am Rider. I easily dominate the other Servants who are going on foot, you know?" With that boast, Rider drew the sword at his waist out of its scabbard. Realizing he was about to call out that Noble Phantasm, Waver stopped him confusedly.

"Wait wait wait! You can't do that here. You'll blow up the house!"

* * *

That night, an expected visitor showed up at Fuyuki Church on the hill in the Shinto suburbs.

"In accordance with the Holy Grail War, I, Kotomine Kirei, request the protection of the Holy Church."

"I accept. In accordance with my duty as supervisor, I, Kotomine Risei, guarantee your security. Come inside."

To the two men who had arranged everything, this was a laughable farce, but they could not know if there was anyone spying at the gate. Feigning strictness, Kotomine Risei wore a grave face and invited his son, weakened by his defeat, inside the church. With many residents from outside, Fuyuki had more people coming to the church than the other towns did. Despite being in the far East, this church of Fuyuki was the spiritual center of a belief which originated from western Europe, giving it genuine splendor. However, this resting place of ordinary Christians was nothing more than a camouflage, as the church was built by the Holy Church specifically for the Grail War. Being the third-grandest spiritual place, it matched the mansion of the Tohsaka family, who also owned the place.

"I see everything has been carried out without problem."

Leading Kirei through the parish house, Father Risei dropped his act and nodded with a serious face.

"Father, who is watching the church?"

"Nobody. This neutral ground has guaranteed inviolability. The Church dissuades Masters from interfering unnecessarily. Apart from that, the defeated ones are of no interest."

"We will enjoy tranquility then."

Sitting on the offered chair, Kirei sighed deeply. Then he added, "We shouldn't neglect vigilance, to be sure. There could always be someone out there."

"—Also, was anyone observing the scene?"

"Yes. That would be me."

This time, a voice responded to the untargeted question. With a maniacal cackle, the lavender-haired Caster peeked his head into the open, his long tongue snaking around a large pair of scissors he was holding. Neither Kirei nor Risei raised an eyebrow at his appearance. But he was someone who absolutely should not have been there. With the form of a jester, this was the heroic spirit of Mephistopheles—the devil's advocate, and the demonic degeneration of Georg Faust.

"There were traces of four different types of familiars at the place of Caster's "death." I believe there are at least four Masters who have witnessed the scene."

"Hm. ... We are missing one."

Narrowing his eyes in thought, Kirei looked at his father. "The spirit board definitely indicated the arrival of seven Servants, didn't it, Father?"

"Yes, without a doubt. The location of the Assassin class servant is unknown. But their summoning definitely took place—we just have yet to identify them. As usual, the names of the Masters weren't given, but all the Servants of this Grail War should be present."

"I see." Kirei would have preferred all five witnessing the night's farce.

"Only an idiot would fail to keep tabs on the mansions of the three main Magus families in Fuyuki," Caster piped up. Beginning a hysterical laugh, he continued, "That, or an outsider to the ritual who the Grail chose to fill the gaps—ha! If anyone let their guards down like that, then there's no reason for me to need to do anything! I can kick back and watch the chaos unfold on its own course, you'll all tear each other apart~! Ehehehe..."

"Mm." Kirei dismissed most of Caster's fluff. But the fact that Caster was still alive was something of a relief to the young Master. If Kirei had lost his Servant, the seals on his hand should have disappeared. But the three red stigmas were still there, which meant the Caster in front of him here was probably the true Caster.

"What is it like?" The older Kotomine spoke up.

"What's it like to die? Well I suppose it hurts a bit, but you are mostly gone before you can register the pain—at least with that Archer." The jester replied nonchalantly.

Caster's dismissive attitude at such a dismal topic didn't seem to phase the priest or his son. At the very least, belief that Caster had been eliminated from the board would ease the minds of the other Masters, meaning none would think to watch their backs as the Servant gathered prana for his big exhibition. Who could guess that the competitor everybody thought was gone was in reality hiding out in the old Fuyuki Church? It was a strange situation, even for an unnatural phenomenon like the Grail War.

"At any rate, this marks the opening of the hostilities." The exaggerated voice of the dignified old priest was filled with anticipation of victory. "The Fourth Holy Grail War has begun. It seems these old bones of mine will witness a miracle this time." Unable to share his father's enthusiasm, Kirei gazed silently at a dimly lit corner of the priest's house.

* * *

 _Word Count: 6437 words_


	3. Act III: Lancer

_Thou art a radiant person…  
Sincere, proud…  
And kind..._

 _A soft, melodic voice drifted about the otherwise silent halls of the manor. The singer seemed unperturbed by her cold surroundings, considering she wore simple thin cloth, much more of a summer outfit. The young girl who this singing voice belonged to, a carefree spirit dancing through the manor._

 _And the listener of the voice, a counterpart to the girl_ ― _tall, clad in silver armor…_

 _That smile of his sparkles softly,  
like that shining morning sun..._

 _The scene warped, the castle walls turning to something rougher... rockier. The listener stood steadfast, hands reaching to his side to grasp the handle of his trusted weapon..._

 _The singer now stood above the bodies of many children, a much more somber sight._

 _You,_ _who art kind,  
believe in justice,  
and loves goodness._

 _The scene shifted again, this time to a high hill, the grass stopping suddenly as the slope pitched into a cliff._

 _Your shining sword removes and eliminates  
those who'd become the evil,  
the wicked in every corner of the world―_

 _And the listener brought his hands forward, blade gripped tight..._

― _You're a prince from a fairy tale._

* * *

 _162 hours, 26 minutes ago..._

Fuyuki City, Shinto.

The housing district in the eastern part of the area was a new town reclaimed from a once-empty wasteland. It had a history of its own, different from Miyama town, but a large-scale redevelopment project by the government was underway to refine it by building a modern business district over the ancient site.

The buildings in the business district-to-be were only forty percent complete, but the maintenance of the park and shopping mall in front of the station was done; future plans for the Shinto district to be clean, crystalline, pompous and non-individualistic were already in place. The city hall was also being moved, piece by piece, to Shinto; revived with modern iron, glass and mortar, it would steal all central municipal functions from Miyama. It was crowded even during the holidays. Amidst the crowd going to and fro, cowering from the northern wind, Emiya Kiritsugu disappeared, unseen and unsensible, attracting no attention.

His shirt and coat, aged and worn, and his lack of baggage gave him a slack appearance that belied him as an immigrant. In fact, he had been like that since he walked through the country up to Shinto in Fuyuki, but Japan was still his native country. Used to coming and going, he felt better here.

Feeling overwhelmed, Kiritsugu looked down at the cigarette pack, freshly bought from a vending machine. It had been been nine years since he stopped smoking. Although he could not find his favorite brand in the far land of the Einzberns, he had kicked the habit mainly out of consideration for Irisviel and Illyasviel. The moment he arrived at Fuyuki station, prepared for battle, he had thrown a coin in the vending machine out of habit. Armed with a disposable lighter bought from a convenience store to get the momentum going, he opened the cigarette pack.

The white of the row of filters was dazzling. He put one in his mouth and lit it. The movements came to him naturally, as though the past ten years had never happened. The aroma flowed into his lungs; he got used to the taste like a seasoned smoker.

Kiritsugu looked at the transformed scenery, completely different from the one he vividly remembered in his heart. He had reconnoitered Fuyuki undercover three years earlier, but Shinto had completely changed since then. Though not unexpected, it was beyond his imagination. He had to verify the surrounding neighborhood again.

Despite the slight difficulty posed by the area's transformation, Kiritsugu reached the hotel he was seeking. The lobby and the front had been straightened up, but inside it was still a cheap business hotel, and good shelter for a wide range of customers.

With great familiarity, Kiritsugu walked across the lobby to the elevator, taking it to the seventh floor. Here, in room 73, was where his faithful subordinate had been staying for the past three days.

In the world of magi, his relation with Hisau Maiya would be that of teacher and student. But to Kiritsugu, who saw magecraft as merely a tool he had acquired some knowledge in—not as the object of his quest—there was never any sense of master-and-pupil. What he taught Maiya was merely a way to fight. This, too, was only for the purpose of using her as a tool. This took place at a time when he went through countless desperate battles for an utopia that could never be fulfilled, when he had not known about the existence of the Grail; his connection to Maiya was older than the one with Irisviel. Having fought at his side, Maiya knew the blood-stained side of Kiritsugu that his wife had never seen.

He knocked a pre-arranged rhythm on the door of room 73, and it opened immediately, as though expecting him. Glancing at each other in lieu of unnecessary greetings, Kiritsugu entered the room and closed the door. Maiya had already been involved for quite a while. After Kiritsugu retreated, she arranged the preparations for the Grail War according to his instructions given from overseas, and had been busy returning to the Einzbern castle many times.

Pretty and fair-skinned, she was a beauty who used neither eye-liner nor lipstick. Her long eyes and gaze always seemed to be scrutinizing suspiciously, but she left an impression of deliberate indifference. Her jet black hair, straight like silk, caught the glance of many men, but her cold, sharp look definitely dashed the hopes of any lady-killer.

They had known each other for over ten years. When they first met, she was only a young girl. Now, no longer a child, she was characterized by a sharpened sagacity instead. That type of beauty tired normal people easily, but with Kiritsugu it was quite the opposite. She was a woman who constantly gauged reality, and could sometimes deliver accurate judgment more mercilessly than Kiritsugu. With her, Kiritsugu did not have to be ashamed of his foul plays or detest his cruelty. This put him somewhat at ease.

"There was movement in the Tohsaka mansion last night."

Maiya started by jumping straight to the point. "Please watch the recordings. By the way, the equipment has all arrived."

"Understood. First, the situation."

Nodding, Maiya switched the decoder of the television. In addition to the magecraft Kiritsugu had taught her, Maiya was particularly able in the management of regular familiars, and Kiritsugu often entrusted her with scouting or reconnaissance missions. This time again, Kiritsugu has assigned to her the surveillance of the Matou and Tohsaka mansions.

Of all the familiars, Maiya prided herself on her bat familiars, but unlike those of other magi, her bats had a miniature CCD camera tied on the abdomen. Of course, this was Kiritsugu's idea. The illusions and camouflage-bounded fields of magi were often based on using mental suggestion on an observer, but defense systems against such methods often neglected to include electronic countermeasures. Video records were helpful for reviewing, so despite slowing down the familiar, the use of cameras was a viable solution.

The entire scene of the previous night was replayed on the 13-inch CRT. The blurred image was comprehensive enough for one to understand the whole incident. Without raising an eyebrow, Kiritsugu watched the jester-suited Servant's failure to escape annihilation at the hands of the golden Servant. The defeated Servant with the ridiculous clothes was, probably, Caster.

"What do you make of it?"

"I think it went too well." Maiya replied immediately.

"The time lag between Caster's materialization and the attack on Tohsaka's Servant was too short; he was clearly waiting... Despite Caster's cleverness, he seemed to have been caught off guard."

Kiritsugu nodded. Truly his pupil; Maiya's conclusion matched his.

"The more I think about it, the more it seems like a pre-arrangement. Why did Tohsaka expose his Servant like that if there was such a huge gap in ability?"

The Tohsaka family had obviously accumulated experience from the second and third Grail fights. There was no way they did not know that the other Masters would be observing the Tohsaka mansion.

The Holy Grail War was a confrontation between heroes of great fame. The legend of these heroes held a lot of information on their fighting patterns as well as their strong and weak points. It was natural that the skills and weaknesses of the Heroic Spirits were known from the beginning. Thus, it became an ironclad rule to hide the true identity of the Heroic Spirits in the war between Servants. In light of this, Heroic Spirits were all referred to by class to avoid revealing their true name.

Last night, Tohsaka had left two clues to the other Masters: his Servant's appearance, as well what seemed to be a Noble Phantasm.

Neither were sufficient to pin the Servant's identity with certainty, but it was a risk easily avoided nonetheless. If he wanted to bring Caster down, he could have done so out of plain sight.

"Showing us something so unnecessary—that could only mean he wanted us to see it."

Kiritsugu nodded again at Maiya's conclusion.

"Possibly. If there is any merit in doing that, then the explanation is obvious. Maiya, what happened to Caster's Master?"

"Kotomine Kirei? He went to the Church last night and requested the supervisor's protection." Hearing that name, Kiritsugu's eye lit with a cold ghastliness.

"Maiya, send a familiar to the Fuyuki Church. One will be fine for now."

"... Is it all right? The church is an area where aggressions between Masters are prohibited."

"Only if the supervisor finds out. Stay at a reasonable distance. Don't overdo it. He does not need to know."

Maiya frowned at Kiritsugu's incomprehensible instructions. "Should I not observe the Church?"

"You can just make it a regular patrolling. What you must concentrate on is staying absolutely undiscovered."

"Yes, understood."

* * *

 _162 hours, 7 minutes ago…_

While Emiya Kiritsugu and Hisau Maiya were getting cozy in a cheap hotel in Shinto, the Volare Italia charter from Germany was landing on the F lane of the airport beside Fuyuki City. Though both were experiencing the frozen wind of winter, the intensity of Japan's winter could not be compared to that of the land where the Einzbern castle lay. Looking up at the soft sunlight of the early afternoon, Irisviel von Einzbern felt her heart lighten.

"So this is the country Kiritsugu was born in."

It was a good place. Although one could get to know a place through pictures and such, Irisviel felt refreshed feeling the air in person. Her heart was not the only thing lightened. On this trip to Japan as a passenger, she could not bring her dresses from the castle; to get to know the town, she had to bring common clothing as much as possible. In short heeled boots and a knee-long skirt, her movements felt reborn.

Nonetheless, being an Einzbern who had lived a secluded life oblivious to the common sense of the outside world, her sense of fashion was uncommon enough. Her silk blouse, knee-high long boots, and casual coat with silver fox fur; everything seemed to come straight from a high class fashion display window. She was very visibly a rare gem, from a particular birthplace, with a particular fashion. Those were clothes clearly fit for a fashion model, but to Irisviel who had grown up alongside polished jewelry, it seemed intimate enough. Irisviel even considered it camouflage in town areas, but it was simply impossible for a beauty like her to disappear into the general public in the first place.

"So, Saber? What did you think of the plane ride?" One step ahead on the runway, Irisviel asked the Servant, who was leaving the extended section.

"No comment in particular. It was more wearisome than expected." There was no lie in his words. His emerald eyes were perfectly serene.

"Oh, that's too bad. I thought you would be more surprised and interested."

"... Irisviel, you must think me a primitive person."

To the frowning Saber, Irisviel replied with a bright laugh, void of any ill intention.

"Flying in the sky is no surprise for a Heroic Spirit?"

"Not exactly. But as a Servant summoned in the present world, I have received information about this era. Also, as Saber, I possess the skill of Riding. At this moment, I might even be able to ride this airplane."

Hearing that, Irisviel's eyes rounded with astonishment.

"You could ... pilot it?"

"Probably. My riding skill applies to all vehicles. If I can sit on a saddle or seize a bridle, I can manage the rest by instinct."

Irisviel burst into laughter from Saber's expression. He hadn't even seen the cockpit. What would he think when seeing one filled with gauges instead of a saddle and bridle? Saber was correct about his skills, though. The Riding Skill of the Saber class allowed the use of any vehicle, save for phantasmal beasts and divine beasts. If needed, he could definitely handle modern vehicles, such as a car or bike.

"I'm still a little disappointed. You must be the first Servant ever to travel in a plane with a flesh-and-blood body."

"I must apologize about that. I am not a good point of reference."

"Oh, it's fine, don't worry. That isn't what I meant."

Foreign Masters had to travel to Japan by one way or another, but Irisviel and her Servant posing together as a party of two must be an exception. The cause of this lay with Saber. Despite being a Heroic Spirit, he had limits other Servants did not have. The gravest among these was that he could not dematerialize; he did not have the ability to cancel his physical form to move at high speed or cut down the mana consumption from his Master when at rest, something all Servants should be able to do. It was not that there had been a mistake in Kiritsugu's contract or his summoning: the soul of the hero Arthur apparently functioned differently from other Heroic Spirits, for reasons unknown even to Irisviel.

The most problematic burden was that he was unable to turn invisible and hide his existence from other people. There was no way he could walk around in his armored suit, so Saber had to dress up as a human, costumed in modern fashion, and accompany Irisviel. But Irisviel found it rather welcome that Saber would follow her in convenient garments.

"I am glad to travel with you, Saber. I never tire of looking at you."

"Irisviel, why the change?"

"No, It's nothing. Don't mind that."

Hiding a smile, Irisviel turned her head away. Saber found the reaction suspicious.

"When you laugh like that, you're holding something back. Tell me frankly what it is."

"It is not a problem if you always remain in physical form, really. That way, I get to have fun choosing your clothes."

How carefree—Saber wanted to reply, but sighed instead. Being unable to dematerialize was a drawback the Master could not deal with. Enjoying oneself was not the primary objective, but telling the Master it was no laughing matter would be mistaking the cause for the end.

"Irisviel, are these clothes fit for moving around in town?"

"Yes ... I guess. It is my first time in this country as well, so I am a little anxious."

A third party with common Japanese sensibility would be able to tell that Irisviel was different. Irisviel had taken Saber's measurements prior to their departure and issued an order for modern clothing to a tailor at the Frankfurt airport: a dark blue dress shirt and necktie, with a dark continental French suit. That would be perfect for disguising him in this society.

Entrusting luggage concerns to two accompanying Einzbern maids, Irisviel and Saber turned to the customs house with empty hands. After the two maids had sent the luggage to the Einzbern villa in the forest on the outskirts by a different route, they arranged their return home. They were not to remain at Irisviel's side for this Grail War; there was no need to endanger people who were not related. On that matter, Irisviel would take care of her personal belongings by herself, and Saber, ever strong of heart, would remain by her side.

Completing without delay the necessary procedures to enter the country, it did not take much time before they were allowed to get to the airport lobby. On their way there, every single official they passed was astounded by the pair, unable to avert their eyes as they passed. This made the two uneasy.

"Is there something wrong with my clothes?" Sensing the attention of the people coming and going in the lobby, Saber muttered awkwardly.

"Well, it might be too elegant ..."

Irisviel could only smile bitterly, but she too was the center of attention. At any rate, the two of them were unequaled beauties. Their eccentric clothing, a grand departure from the common sense of the place, balanced their matching act well. They garnered much attention from their surroundings; not just odd glances, but envious ones as well.

"Let's go, Saber. Worrying won't change anything." With that, Irisviel pulled Saber's hand with a bitter face. "At last, we are in Japan. We must enjoy ourselves as much as possible before the battle begins."

"No, Irisviel, the issue is not one of enjoyment—"

As Saber's mumbling trailed off, Irisviel sprang to find a taxi. Saber had not noticed her liveliness until that moment.

* * *

Soon after the two arrived in Fuyuki City, sunset colored the western sky of the late afternoon.

"How lively." The hired car drove down the park plaza in front of the station. Irisviel's eyes lit expressively as she took in the sights of the evening traffic jam. But Saber was studying the surroundings, like a commander reading the topography of a battlefield.

"Kiritsugu has already arrived, hasn't he?"

"Yes. He arranged to reach half a day before us."

Already inside the country, Kiritsugu was to hide his existence and follow a different route from Irisviel's group. He would take a passenger flight to the international airport at Shin-Osaka and switch to the railroad headed to Fuyuki City.

"Will we meet up again?"

"It's all right. He will be the one to come to us."

Her face betrayed nothing, but Saber was quite shocked by Kiritsugu and Irisviel's plans, which she found unsatisfactory.

"In that case, what is the plan now?"

"Right ... For now, we shall observe the changes in the situation and adapt ourselves accordingly."

"Do you mean we have nothing to do?"

"Exactly."

Irisviel gave an impish smile that looked mischievous to the discouraged Saber.

"Such a waste, after we finally arrived in this distant country."

Smiling while watching the traffic jam around her, Irisviel strolled, a little dispirited. Saber, at her side and feeling confused, firmly followed her pace.

"And—what about trying to find an enemy Servant?"

"Hmm. No way." Refusing blankly, Irisviel turned around, staring expectantly at her partner. "Say, Saber. Since we have such an opportunity, we could look around the town. It must be interesting."

For an instant, Saber was taken aback by the unexpected proposition, but immediately straightened up with a stern face.

"Irisviel. We cannot be unprepared. We have to consider the land of Fuyuki we are walking in as enemy territory already. The Grail War has already started."

"Yes. I depend on you for that, Saber. You will know if we are near a Servant, right?"

"Well ... That is correct."

Dematerialized or not, Servants could perceive the presence of other Servants. Of course, each Servant has his or her own affinity with this searching ability, and some, like Assassin, have the ability to erase their presence.

"As Saber, I am able to perceive a presence in a radius of up to roughly two hundred meters. But an opponent with the right ability could tamper with that."

"I see. But right here and right now, there is no Servant targeting us, is there?"

"Indeed. But—"

"Then let's have a look around. We don't have to search."

To seek a hidden opponent, striding across town provocatively was certainly an acceptable plan, albeit an audacious one. Since Saber had no active searching ability, there was no other way to carry out a search. Being unable to dematerialize, he also did not have the choice of covert espionage. But Saber sensed that Irisviel, rather than acting on a coherent plan, had a hidden motive. Actually, Saber could not see Irisviel's invitation as anything more than a sightseeing jaunt.

"Irisviel, we should regroup somewhere and reunite with Kiritsugu to work out a plan. Hasn't the Einzbern family prepared a castle on the outskirts of the town?"

"Well ... Yes, we have that." Now Irisviel started mumbling. Her behavior was inappropriate for a crisis and she knew it. Guessing her intentions, Saber asked again.

"Why do you insist so much on visiting this town?"

"You know ... This is my first time." Irisviel looked down nervously. Saber gasped in shock.

"—In submitting to the Grail, I gained some knowledge of this world. I know about this land that will become a battlefield. Irisviel, this town isn't really a place for sight-seeing, especially since there are no particularly famous places."

"No, that's not it. That is not what I—" Like a child adamantly refusing to give any explanation at first, Irisviel hesitated a little, finally confessing frankly. "I—this is the first time I have been outside."

"... Huh?" Not understanding initially, Saber listened, dumbfounded.

"Like I said, this is like a rebirth—it is the first time I have stepped foot in the outside world."

"You have stayed in that castle all your life since birth?"

Not liking the conclusion, Irisviel hung her head in shame, giving a small nod.

"I am a puppet created only for this Grail War. The elder has always told me I had no need to go out."

Saber had not lived a joyful life as King Arthur either. But he could not avoid feeling a sense of compassion toward this person who, like a caged bird, had been imprisoned in that frozen castle since birth.

"Of course, it's not like I'm completely ignorant about things, especially after Kiritsugu came. He told me a lot about the scenery and happenings of the outside world, through movies or pictures. About New York, Paris, and all the people in the world. About Japan too, of course." Smiling miserably, Irisviel looked at the traffic jam around. "But ... this is the first time I have seen this world with my own eyes. Perhaps I am being a little too happy and merry. I'm sorry."

Saber nodded, quietly turning his eyes, and gently offered an arm wrapped in his dark suit to Irisviel.

"... Saber?"

"This is my first time in this town, but escort is the duty of a knight. So I will do my best. Then, if you please."

"—Thank you." Her eyes lit with a bright joy, Irisviel entwined her arm around Saber's elbow. There was still much time left to nightfall.

* * *

Saber and Irisviel easily drew all the attention in the middle of the business district. The young woman was full of dignity, her glittering silver hair and cashmere coat by no means pompous but definitely fitting, and holding her arm was a good-looking young man with a brilliant face. That was not a combination one would see outside of a cocktail party filled with movie stars. The two silver-screen visions leisurely strode down the road in the Japanese provincial city. Anyone walking down the same road would stop to look, forgetting for an instant to keep walking.  
The two did not have the harmony of a couple at a date, nor the admiring eyes of sightseeing tourists; they only followed the flow of their journey, walking aimlessly.  
Sometimes they would stop suddenly, gazing gaily at the setting sun shining in the windows of buildings and showroom windows; nothing extraordinary. They did not enter any shops to make any expense nor did they sit at any cafe terrace to rest. Like two understanding outsiders, they simply slipped into the noisy surroundings, watching the working life of the city from a fixed distance.

Unnoticed, the winter sun had sank completely behind the mountain range, leaving the curtain of night which revealed a different face of the urban landscape. Irisviel sighed, entranced by the rainbowed illumination of the twinkling scenery. The world was probably full of towns more beautiful at night than Fuyuki City was, but Irisviel was nonetheless deeply moved by the night before her eyes, as though touching a treasure for the first time.

"It's really beautiful. The life of people alone makes the night dazzling."

Irisviel's murmur was somewhat emotional, and Saber silently nodded in response. The political world she once lived in was a distant space-time apart from this place, yet no emotion sprang from this scene she was seeing for the first time. The tranquility was surface-deep; her nerves were like needles. The place was already enemy territory—that knowledge remained unchanged.

Saber was definitely not a Servant who excelled at searching for the enemy; depending on the situation, an enemy Servant would likely find him first if he was wandering about. It was hard to think that any enemy would pounce straightforwardly while everyone was looking, but a well-timed surprise attack at that point would not be out of the question. Even so, he complied with Irisviel's wish to fully enjoy herself freely for a brief time without any reproach; he had that much confidence in his sword.

He was the Heroic Spirit summoned in the strongest class—the Saber class. No Servant could surpass him in close combat. He was certain he could clear an escape route from the battlefield under any disadvantage. Actually, a surprise attack would be desirable. He would withstand it fair and square, turn the tables and go in for the kill. If anyone was enough of a fool to make him their enemy, he might remind them that the Saber class was not only about gallantry.

"Hey, Saber, do you want to see the beach next?" Irisviel could not hide her excitement, and the young man nodded with a smile. Tension would pick up no opponents. He'd sworn to protect Irisviel, and he would carry it through to the end while Irisviel enjoyed herself. That was the strength of his enormous pride as a knight.

There was a vast seaside park on the opposite shore of the big bridge crossing the Miongawa. Late at night, two people strolled on the lone walkway with nobody in sight. The north wind from the sea blew softly, uninterrupted, dancing with Irisviel's long silver hair like the trail of a shooting star. Dating couples hated the chill of winter nights here and only came in summer, but Irisviel, seeing the sea for the first time, did not care about the cold; she had grown accustomed to it back at home.

"We should have come here when it wasn't dark." Watching the sea at night fill the bleak darkness, Saber said so in an apologetic tone. But Irisviel, unconcerned, concentrated on the horizon that had sunk in the dark.

"It's fine. The sea at night is beautiful too, mirroring the night sky like this."

Listening to the endless roar of the waves, a smile crept over Irisviel's face. She had greatly enjoyed the day's walk; her fair-skinned cheeks were flushed. With her innocent and naïve smile, she looked more like a young woman of tender years than a married woman with a child.

"I had no idea … that walking through an unknown town with a gentleman would be such an enjoyable experience."

"Then I presume my company has been satisfactory?" Saber chaffed her mockingly; a departure from his usual stubborn Heroic Spirit self.

"It was faultless. Saber, you were a superb knight today."

"You honor me, Princess."

The young man in the dark suit bowed courteously. Irisviel, a little embarrassed, turned her head toward the sea.

"Saber, do you like the sea?"

"In my time, my country… What lay beyond the sea was always the enemy. It was annoying and not very attractive."

"I see …" At Saber's reply, Irisviel's expression clouded a little.

Saber too held a clouded expression. Not unknown to human expression, he duly noted his companion.

"But you, Irisviel, would you not want to walk through the city with Kiritsugu rather than with me?" This time, it was Irisviel's face that was crossed by a smile.

"He … cannot do that. He would be pained by mixed feelings."

Not grasping the meaning of her reply, Saber made a dubious face. "Can't Kiritsugu enjoy his time with you?"

"Not that. He would certainly enjoy it as much as I do … That is why he cannot. For him, happiness is a pain."

Carefully analyzing these words, Saber tried to comprehend the contradiction of the man Emiya Kiritsugu.

"—He is a man who cannot value his happiness; Is that the weakness he bears?"

"Maybe. He is always punishing himself deep inside. If he is to keep chasing his dream, he has to be cold-hearted."

Irisviel gazed distantly at the sea, thinking of her husband hiding somewhere in the city, preparing for the same goal. Saber reflected for a moment upon those words. The day's discussion had moved from sea-gazing to an unexpected topic, even though they had intended to end the day on a pleasant note. Nonchalantly, she held and pulled Irisviel's upper arm. Her attention drawn by the gesture, Irisviel settled down and exchanged a look with Saber.

"An enemy Servant?"

"Yes."

The sensation did not change. From under cover, a hundred meters to the side, they were leaving clear signals provocatively. Clearly conscious of Saber's presence, they did not shorten the distance, slowly distancing themself instead—

"They seem to be inviting us."

"Such honesty. Do they want to choose the battlefield?" Without any trace of tension in her voice, Irisviel replied with cool calm. In such a battle situation, that was proof of her complete faith in Saber. Saber's inner judgment, revised, started to favor his mistress.

"It appears the opponent has the same expectations we do. Making the opponent bite on their trail … They are a Servant looking for a frontal fight, just like you, Saber, aren't they?"

"The Lancer or Rider class; a straightforward opponent." At Saber's nodding, Irisviel again returned a fearless smile.

"Then, shall we take on the invitation?"

"I wish the same."

It was dangerous to blindly take the bait and follow the enemy to a field at their advantage, but Saber was not so frail as to fear such tricks, and his mistress did not underestimate her Servant either. As the presence of the enemy grew more distant, Saber started walking with a quiet self-confidence. Irisviel, following likewise, switched on a palm-sized device hidden in her pocket. This was a transmitter given by Kiritsugu, a device for him to track the position of Irisviel's group from a different route.

Irisviel trusted Saber's power. An enemy of lower rank than Saber would be killed in a blink with one sword strike from her proud Servant—she expected an easy development. As far as possible, she wanted her knight to end the fight before Kiritsugu entered the battle.

* * *

 _154 hours, 15 minutes ago…_

The broad majestic bridge that straddled the widening Mion river spanned over 665M and exceeded three roads in width. The top of the arch was over fifty meters high. Anyone who stood so high up and faced the full force of the sea gale would miss a step and fall to his end in the river below. Atop that cold steel frame, Waver Velvet had nothing like a lifeline; he clung on tightly with both arms and legs. Naturally, this required giving up the dignity and composure he usually had. Right next to him, his Servant Rider sat cross-legged with odious dignity.

"Ri-de-r, quick ... Let's go down ... Now!" His teeth chattering from the cold and terror, Waver's complaining voice was like the blowing wind to the giant Servant.

"This place is perfect for a look-out. It isn't the time for fancy sight-seeing in a high place."

Sipping from the wine bottle in his hand from time to time, he rambled while looking down at the west bank of the bridge, toward the wide seaside park hidden from the estuary. Waver could not see them, but what Rider was looking at were marks that a Servant had been leaving around for the past four hours. Rider had wandered the streets looking for contact with an enemy, but he only noticed that Servant late in the afternoon. While pondering the option of jumping them, Rider kept observing the Servant from a distance, without advancing. When Waver asked about it, Rider answered with a snort.

"They're clearly luring us out. For them to not pick up on us is strange indeed. I'm not the only one either; other Servants must be studying this behavior as well. An impatient Master would just get tired of waiting at some point, or something. That's what we should be looking forward to."

Rider's plan had no opening as far as Waver could tell; it was unexpectedly perfect. This broad-minded giant Servant could set up sly tactics too. Indeed, as Rider said, only a helpless fool would take the bait and accept the challenge. Those who fell for it would be feeding on each other, decreasing the count. However confident a provocative Servant was, anyone other than Rider seeking a brawl would be quickly dispatched. No matter who was defeated, Rider could easily smash the winner. There was definitely profit to be gained from the fights of others.

Once decided, it became a matter of endurance. Remaining at a fixed distance from the Servant wandering aimlessly in the city, Waver and Rider followed, still surveying. There were obvious reasons for taking a high vantage point, but there were limits as well. Being no Servant himself, Waver with his flesh-and-blood body would definitely die if he fell.

"Co-come down! No, get the hell down! I-I've-I've had it!"

"Ah, just wait. You're such a restless guy. Sitting and waiting is also part of the battle." Sipping from his wine bottle, Rider didn't even look at Waver's half-crying face as he answered gratuitously.

"High places are dangerous"—such common understanding hadn't yet been established between the two.

"If you're bored, read the book I entrusted to you. It's a good book."

At that, Waver remembered the stupid weight in the knapsack hanging on his shoulder. In such a situation, where even one unnecessary gram of weight could not be afforded, the poetry anthology with its thick hard cover was dead weight. That was the book Rider looted from the library when he arrived in the present world. The Iliad, written by the poet Homer of ancient Greece—the epic poem describing the Trojan war, in which gods and humans fought against and alongside each other. The atlas' purpose was understandable. From his exaggerations of world conquest, it was clear that Rider took great interest in the geography of the modern world, even if such a notion sounded foolish. But what of the poetry anthology? Rider had set up a library at home even though he was preparing for war, yet he still insisted on bringing the Iliad with him. Naturally, if he wanted to bring anything that was not part of his regular equipment, he would need to remain materialized; if he was to dematerialize and stay hidden from other people, then Waver would have to carry that luggage. Rider insisted that the book was "preparation for war," but how on Earth could a book that had nothing to do with war strategy be helpful on the battlefield?

"Rider ... Why did you bring this book?"

At Waver's bitter question, the Heroic Spirit answered with a grave expression.

"The Iliad is very profound. At the height of battle, I suddenly get the urge to read a verse of poetry. At a time like that, it irks me when I can't reread something immediately."

The answer sounded like utter nonsense, but fear stopped him from arguing back.

"At a time like that, you mean ... in battle?"

"Yes." Rider nodded nonchalantly, as though the reply was perfectly normal.

"... But how?"

"With my left hand of course, while I hold my sword in my right. If I need to hold the bridle with my left hand, I get a page to read it aloud."

Waver was at loss for words.

"It's not that surprising. The warriors of my era all lived a life of battle. Battling while drinking and eating, embracing women while battling, battling even while sleeping. Any one of them

could do that."

Ask him anything and he would not stop talking. He did seem capable of doing all that, but ...

"You're kidding, right?"

"Of course. You fool." He sniggered and delivered another exploding flinch to Waver's forehead.

"Gyaa—h!"

He did not have the time to worry, let alone dodge. At any rate, Waver was clinging with all his might to the steel frame, arms and legs all occupied. He could not even rub his pained forehead, so he did the only thing he could—howl with an unbecoming shriek. "Hey, kid, anyone would laugh at a joke like that. If you're turning blue from that, it's because you have no guts."

Ignoring Rider's frank laugh, the magus strongly regretted his choice of Heroic Spirit as he shed tears from the pain on his forehead.

"I wanna go back ... go back to England ..."

"I told you not to be in such a hurry. Look here, things are moving at last."

"... Eh?"

Rider pointed at the seaside park with a stern chin.

"Even I, the King of Conquerors, had only just noticed, but yes, it seems there was one more Servant in this park. This guy isn't hiding anything either. On the contrary, he's nearing the one who arrived after us."

"Then, then—"

"The two seem to be heading for the port. That's a provocation. That's it. We'll study their fight."

His eyes started to take on the sharp gleam of a beast as he gave a threatening laugh. Though only a spectator, the soul of the Heroic Spirit Alexander was already on the battlefield. In Waver's heart—his body still unable to move on the steel frame—his misery was overriding the sense of reliability he should have felt from Rider. Moreover, he was occupied by the thought that nothing mattered if he fell down anyway.

* * *

The west bank of the seaside park was extended by a row of storehouses. The block, which contained harbor facilities, also separated the eastern industrial area from Shinto. With the arrival of night, the pedestrian traffic ceased, and the street lights shone uselessly on the asphalt, further emptying the scenery. Unmanned derrick cranes were turned toward the dark sea, like an eerie flock of huge fossilized dinosaurs. Indeed, this was a suitable place for Servants to confront each other, hidden from the public view. Large vehicles drove on the four-lane road by day, but Saber and Irisviel now walked in their place, bearing all the magnificence of duelists heading to a rendezvous.

The enemy presented themself in similar fashion without running or hiding. The tall shadow posing in the middle of the empty street emitted an extraordinary amount of mana that flaunted their superhuman prowess outrageously. The two Servants stopped, facing each other about ten meters apart. Finally, they had met the first Servant. Saber carefully observed the enemy he'd be battling to the death with. She, clad in a skin tight bodysuit uncommon of the area, plated armor around the shoulders, and having a tall stature for a woman, stood nonchalantly at the other end of the wharf.

At first glance, she was pretty charming to the eyes. In both hands, over two meters and longer than she was tall, were two spears of ruby, obviously her weapons. She belonged to one of the three knight classes—of Saber, Archer, and the Heroic Spirit of the Lance; she was without a doubt the Servant Lancer.

The strangest part though, was the fact that she wielded two spears, one with elegant patterns etched into the shaft, and an equally delicate speartip, while the other was cruder, the sharpened end resembling the front row of shark teeth, each having essentially identical crimson hues, held in resting position against her shoulders. To handle a spear with ease, the obvious stance to adopt was of course to hold one with both hands. No matter what one could do with swords, holding two spears was simply not commonplace.

"How nice of you to come. All those who were parading around today in the town have only cowered away. You are the only one valorous enough to answer my invitation." With a humble, cheerful voice, the Heroic Spirit Lancer praised Saber carelessly, without standing on guard.

"Such a pure fighting spirit ; am I correct in thinking you are Saber?"

"Yes, you are. Surely you must be Lancer?"

"Indeed. An exchange of names in a deadly fight is unusual indeed—an unobliged pleasure."

Saber loosened her feigned impudence slightly. "Certainly. Our battle is not one for honor. You too raise your spear for your Master in this era, do you not?"

"Indeed." With a strange expression, Lancer answered in a cool, bitter tone, quite unlike someone who wished a deadly exchange.

On closer inspection, she was a remarkably beautiful woman. Her intrepid features—high cheekbones and a valiant brow, softened by the more gentle characteristics of her face. Though her lips were concealed behind a dark mask, her piercing red eyes seemed to hide a quiet grief.

"Then your call for battle has been answered. I, of the Saber Class, shall be your opponent."

"Certainly. Show me your strength, oh brave warrior. Otherwise I shall take your life."

"If that's all for formalities, then let us begin."

Saber replied with a quiet smile; a smile possessed only by those who wished for a straightforward life-or-death duel.

"Then, anytime you please." Picking up the long spear on his right shoulder with a spin, Lancer raised the tip of the spear in her left hand. Her stance—both spears spread like wings—really was an unreadable style. Saber's fighting spirit boiled as well, and exploded. A surge of mana enveloped the young man's suit in a tornado-like swirl, and his body was instantly wrapped in armor of silver and blue. The armor and gauntlets created by magic were the true form of the King of Knights, as a Heroic Spirit.

"Saber ..."

Swallowing nervously, Irisviel called from behind. She could feel the fighting spirit released by both Servants, as well as the atmosphere strained by that tension. There was no room for disruption in this battle. But she could not just stand and watch, even if she was only a substitute Master.

"Take care. I can only support you with healing magecraft, but no more."

Without a word, Saber nodded.

"Leave Lancer to me. But it worries me that the enemy Master is nowhere to be seen."

Lancer's Master, choosing to stay hidden, posed a danger. Usually, a Master would stand by the Servant, instructing them as they did battle, and providing magical support. As long as Lancer's Master did not have complete faith in her, he had to be lurking nearby, watching over Lancer's battle.

"She might be preparing an odd trick. Please be cautious. Irisviel, I trust you to watch my back."

His jade eyes were calm and fearless. _Trust the Heroic Spirit of the Sword. As one whom this Heroic Spirit recognized as his master, trust yourself likewise, Irisviel_ —Saber's eyes spoke silently.

"Understood. Saber, bring me victory."

"Yes. I will."

Nodding resolutely, Saber took a step forward, nearer the range of the long spear, where Lancer was standing on guard.

Then they each made their first leaps into combat.

* * *

 _154 hours, 9 minutes ago…_

Upon receiving Irisviel's signal, Emiya Kiritsugu and Hisau Maiya raced in the direction of the factories. They were welcomed by a stretch of silence. There was only the howling of the sea wind in their ears, and an atmosphere as quiet and stagnant as death.

"It has already begun."

By the traces of surrounding mana alone, Kiritsugu was able to accurately judge the situation. Someone had formed a barrier; likely the work of the enemy Master. The goal was to segregate ordinary humans from the Grail War, concealing the true battlefield of the war. It was a compulsory rule to prevent magi activities being exposed to other mortals. Kiritsugu began to think as he cradled over ten kilograms of heavy sniper rifle in his arms. He had already estimated Irisviel's position from the transmitter's. However, the question of how to approach the location remained, and he had little idea where to observe once they reached it.

He had no thought of joining the battle at all. He would inspect the battle at a suitable place, attacking with the rifle only when necessary. Servants were not humans; only a Servant could wound another Servant. No matter how powerful their firearms were, they would not work on Servants. It was Saber's job to battle the opposing Servant. As long as the enemy devoted himself to the battle and did not pay attention to his Master, it was possible to win this fight.

"Up there; that looks like a good place to observe the fight."

Maiya pointed in front of them, at a derrick crane towering into the night. The control cabin hovered about thirty meters above the ground. It would be the most optimal observation point around if one managed to climb up there silently. Kiritsugu had no objections to Maiya's suggestion, but he shook his head.

"Yes, that is the ideal place to survey the battle. Someone else is probably thinking the same thing." Maiya understood his intentions without another word.

"Slip in through the eastern bank. I'll go through the west. Find an observation point that overlooks both Saber's battle and the crane."

"I understand."

Maiya disappeared into the shadows of the factories with a jog, holding the AUG assault gun in her hands. Kiritsugu checked the the transmitter as he cautiously moved in the opposite direction.

* * *

All Irisviel could do was to stare in astonishment. The battle was unfolding with extraordinary intensity. She had known it would be a merciless duel that could only take place in such a remote era. Warriors clad in armor, engaging in melee combat with all their strength, amid reflections of light off sword and spear, and the moving shadows of swinging blades.

But the amount of escaping mana and the intense heat was vastly different. Their stamping feet crushed the ground. The wind that followed the swinging of weapons crudely severed the lamp post in half. Irisviel could no longer see the movements, executed at such high speeds. She was only feeling the aftershock of the conflict between the two.

The wind ripped the peeling sheet iron on the outer walls of the warehouses like a piece of coiled tin foil. She could not fathom how iron could have been torn away so easily. Perhaps Saber's sword or Lancer's spear had brushed against its adjacent hollow space; she could not come up with any other explanation.

The wind was howling. Faced with a dimension completely at odds with nature's physical laws, the air wailed in paranoia. A chaotic storm raged on the empty street, destroying and trampling all things within. Mere hand-to-hand combat between the two was enough to ruin the entire street.

This was the Grail War. At this moment, Irisviel was experiencing an awe and wonder told only in stories. The world where myths and legends dwelled came alive vividly before her eyes. This could be the rebirth of those legends. Shafts of thunder tore the sky apart and knolls of roaring waves shattered the earth. The imaginary realm was miraculously materialized with astonishing clarity. Facing a world that she had previously thought impossible, all Irisviel could do was stare, transfixed.

At the same time, Saber was experiencing a similar wonder. Slaughter in war was a piece of cake for him. As a knight who had braved countless battles, he fought his enemies as smoothly as one would wield a knife and a fork. To the understanding of one like him, a spear was a weapon wielded with both hands. It was common knowledge. To him, Lancer's use of two spears was just a means to confuse the enemy. Since she was the Heroic Spirit of the Lance, the spear in her hands should be her Noble Phantasm. However, revealing the true name of one's Noble Phantasm in a Grail War was equivalent to exposing one's true identity. The runes carved onto Lancer's spears must be for concealing the spear's real name. It seems both her Master and she were prudent when it came to concealing their identities.

If that was the case, it would not be hard to explain why she was using two spears. Because Saber did not know which spear was the true Noble Phantasm, he had to fend off attacks from both.

Even then, the elegant spear on the right and the crude spear on the left—one of them must be Lancer's true weapon. Between the habitual weapon and the secondary weapon, feint and proper moves could be distinguished. Saber paid close attention to each of her attacks; he believed that if he could recognize the true lance, his chances of winning would improve immensely. Yet—

His own attack was deflected for the third time. Saber had to step back and wait for a better opportunity.

"What's wrong, Saber? Your attacks are not working."

Even after thirty exchanges, the knight had not managed to hit his opponent even once.

Lancer swung the lance in her left hand and approached him in a straight run. The swinging shaft covered a wide area, its strength and speed equaling a two-handed swing. No; precisely because it was used with one hand, there were now many moves that could be used which would not have worked with a two-handed stance. The lance was thrust toward Saber from an unexpected angle.

Nevertheless, a lance had its limitations. Because of its extended length, a gap would inevitably show up between two attacks. During that time, the crude spear from the right could follow in and continue to hassle Saber. Saber's attack just then was broken by said spear's immaculate defense.

Simultaneously using two lances, yet making no feint moves. This Heroic Spirit, Lancer, merged the lances in his left and right hands in a seamless choreography. What kind of devotion and practice was necessary to obtain such a strong fighting style?

 _... She's good...!_ Up to that point, Saber was still quivering before this strong opponent in his first battle, but he had now escaped that shadow of fear. Although to a casual observer, Lancer appeared to have the advantage with his incessant attacks, the truth was not so. Lancer was rather exhausted from fending off Saber's attacks since they first engaged. Despite her unbroken style, she was also powerless to dominate the situation.

For Lancer, who was capable of using her lance with just one hand, dual-wielding both spears at the same time would enable her to attack both at long-range and short-range. Taking into account the supremacy of his weaponry, she should not have been forced into his current predicament by Saber and his single sword. However—

 _How did the sword...?_ Lancer complained silently. Irisviel was not the only one who could not see the movement of the high-speed sword; even Lancer, a Servant herself, had trouble discerning the trajectory of the sword in Saber's hands.

Lancer had no way of knowing that this, too, was one of Heroic Spirit Arthur's Noble Phantasms, the threat of the _Invisible Air: Barrier of the Wind King_. The air surrounding the sword was compacted together with immense amounts of mana, creating impossible refractions of light, rendering the sword invisible. Although it was not much support for the Noble Phantasm, its result was very obvious in melee combat. Saber attacked his opponent with an invisible swing, and likewise blocked the countering attack with an invisible blade. Lancer's worry was understandable. Even though she could decipher Saber's attacks from his movements, she could not spring any surprise attacks on him due to his inability to judge the length of his blade. Therefore Lancer could only gauge it, keeping herself outside Saber's attacking range; only then could she use her magnificent attacks continuously to their full extent. Despite being able to block all of Saber's attacks, she had yet to find an opportunity to deal him a lethal blow.

 _He's quite good...!_ Facing the enemy she had just met, a melancholic smile emerged on Lancer's face, under the thin fabric of her concealment. The two Heroic Spirits devoted their entire selves to the fight, sparing no thought for the world around them.

No; even if they had stayed on guard, in their current state they would still have been oblivious to another figure slipping through the terrain. Not only was the newcomer a considerable distance from the sparks of the deadly blade and spear dance, he moved soundlessly in the shadows, and could bypass a Servant's detection with Presence Concealment.

A gust of wind from the sea fluttered the black robe. The sliver of a satisfactory smile emerged on the countenance beneath his shaded hood. No one would have counted on Assassin, still unknown to all participants, now stood in the evening shopping street.

Assassin hid in the perfect spot to observe the unfolding battle—the crane that loomed beside the cliff. It was situated about 500 away from the skirmish. As a Servant with eyesight surpassing a human's, he could clearly discern the conflict between the two, even spotting their expressions with accuracy. Meanwhile, the two combatants barely had time to consider if they were being spied upon. He could have remained in Spirit Form and obtained information from a much closer distance, but in that form his senses would be limited to spiritual detection; and the task he had been entrusted with was to observe with his eyes. Assassin, who understood this Heaven's Feel, silently gazed at the battle in the distance in accordance with his order.

* * *

Over fifteen kilometers away from the warehouse area where the deadly struggle continued, someone sat in darkness within the basement of Fuyuki Church, encased in the silence of night. Although his eyes were closed, he was not resting but sitting in silence, his nerves on edge. The jet-black figure took the shape of Kotomine Kirei's priest frock. From his profile, one might think that he was contemplating about certain matters. One would never guess that he was listening to the crooning of the sea breeze, and seeing before his eyes a battle scene full of sparks from the clashing of steel. What he was seeing and hearing was an unknown battle between Servants taking place in the distant warehouses... A sight identical to what his servant Caster was witnessing.

This was the result of his past three years of study—an ability called shared perception that was taught to him by Tohsaka Tokiomi. Using only a mana connection, he was able to share senses with the one who made a contract with him. In the Grail War, the ability to completely monitor the opponent from afar was quite useful. Tokiomi, who taught this magecraft to Kirei himself, had such a suggestion immediately rejected by Archer. The haughty King of Heroes would not allow another to look through his eyes, not even his own Master.

"—Something is happening around the warehouses beside the estuary of the River Mion. It appears that the initial battle has begun."

Kirei spoke, but there was no one in the darkness. Instead, there was an aged phonograph on a table, its brass horn tilted toward Kirei. As expected, the ordinary antique phonograph replied to his words in a human voice.

"Not the initial; officially, it is the second battle, Kirei." Although the sound was rather distorted, the unconstrained tone filled with composure could only be the voice of Tohsaka Tokiomi.

On closer inspection of this antique, while it could be mistaken for a phonograph with an old bell-type horn, beneath the apparatus there was neither a turntable nor stylus. In its place, the end of the horn was connected to a large jewel with a metal wire. The contraption was a mana gauge passed down in the Tohsaka family, which Tokiomi had lent to Kirei. A similar mana gauge was placed in the workshop of the Tohsaka residence; Tokiomi was also sitting in front of the device. Through synchronised vibration, the jewels on the two contraptions could transmit to each other the vibrations of the air inside their horns. This was the Tohsaka family's communication device, born of their jewel magecraft. As soon as the church of Fuyuki was put into Kotomine Risei's hands, Tokiomi had placed the jewel communicator in the church. Father Risei was Tokiomi's secret supporter, while his son Kotomine Kirei, the first to be defeated, was sent into the church for protection in the beginning of the Grail War. Logically, Tokiomi's goal was to communicate discreetly with these two people. Everything appeared completely normal on the outside; no one would have thought that Kirei could make contact with the outside world. At the same time, Kirei, who was not a magus, thought radios would do the trick as well as the strange contraption would.

The difference between radios and Tohsaka's jewel communicator was that conversations taking place through the latter could not be eavesdropped on. Upon further consideration, Tokiomi's prudent behavior was actually more beneficial for Kirei.

Because Archer refused vehemently, right now Caster and Kirei had replaced Archer as Tokiomi's scouts. Kirei used Caster's eyes to reconnoiter, and with the clairvoyance of a Master captured every minute detail.

"It ... appears to be a battle between Saber and Lancer. Saber's abilities are of an extremely high level; it is likely that most of his parameters are near A rank."

"I see. No wonder it is the strongest class. Can you see the Master?"

"I can only see one more person ... a silver-haired woman standing behind Saber."

"Hmm. It seems Lancer's Master knows he should conceal himself. Not an amateur; he understands the rules of the Grail War. Wait, did you say Saber's Master is a silver-haired woman?"

"Yes. A young albino girl. Silver-haired with red eyes; doesn't look quite human."

The other side of the brass horn contemplated silently.

"... An Einzbern homunculus? Could they still be making homunculi Masters ...? Though that is not impossible ..."

"Are you saying this woman is the Master of the Einzberns?"

"So Jubstacheit's pawns were not limited only to Emiya Kiritsugu... It's hard to believe I actually predicted this incorrectly."

For the first time in his life, a curious agitation surged in Kirei's chest; he soon realized it was disappointment.

"All in all, that woman is the key to grasping the flow of Heaven's Feel. Kirei, you must pay close attention."

"I understand. I'll send someone to follow her at all times."

Immediately after receiving those mysterious words, Kirei continued to watch the two Heroic Spirits intently. In Kirei's eyes, neither the sparkling collision of blades nor the leaping bursts of mana seemed as bright as they were just moments ago.

* * *

Kiritsugu silently set the Walther up on the mountainous shipping containers, which were piled on the container port beside the seaside cliffs. He took in the progress of the fight using the electronic sights that penetrated the cover of night.

First, the thermographic scope ... He spotted it. On the screen that displayed cool shades of black and blue, red and orange images emerged conspicuously. A thermo-diagram representing the two of them fused together like a giant flare. Further in the distance, two smaller heat patterns appeared. One of them was standing in the middle of the street witnessing this battle, the other was concealed on the warehouse roofs in a more remote location. Deciding the target of assassination was very easy.

It was indeed Irisviel who stood on the road. She seemed to be declaring that, as the partner of an excellent Saber, she should not hide away but fight a fair battle bravely and in the open. Then the heat signature on the roof would be the enemy Master, The one controlling Lancer, who was facing Kiritsugu's Saber with dual spears.

Submerged in the darkness, Kiritsugu smiled a cold-hearted smile. These were the best conditions he could hope for. Lancer's Master likely relied on illusions or presence-concealing magecraft to hide his position, thinking it would be enough; he did not consider that it could be countered with mechanical cameras. Like all other magi who died by Kiritsugu's hand, he would walk the same path as them to his destruction. Kiritsugu contacted Maiya, positioned on the other side of the battlefield, with his radio.

"Maiya, Lancer's Master is hiding on top of the warehouses, northeast from where Saber is. Can you see him?"

"No. It is a blind spot from my position."

Unfortunately, only Kiritsugu himself could fire at the moment. But it was not a problem; the distance was barely three hundred meters. With his skills, Kiritsugu could take his target's life with just one bullet. As long as he remained unaware of the sniper's presence, no magus could defend himself from a .300 Winchester Magnum round.

Setting up the bipod, Kiritsugu had just started to get into the mood—Suddenly, with a start, he turned the Walther toward the derrick crane. In that moment, all his plans seemed to be ruined.

Suppressing his disapproval, he whispered into the radio again. "Maiya, up on the crane ..."

"Affirmative here as well. It is as you suspected."

Meanwhile, a third party that was scrutinizing the battle between Saber and Lancer had also discovered the silhouette atop the crane.

It was completely unpredicted. In the Holy Grail War, one would logically stay on the sidelines rather than join in the battle eagerly. A clever Master would not step in even if other Servants jumped into the fray, but would choose to keep on observing a fight. Picking on stragglers in the aftermath of a conflict was also a good idea. Even if one was not that fortunate, it would at least allow one to know the enemy's condition.

Kiritsugu, who arrived at the battle scene first, never assumed that this fight would only have one team of observers. He had therefore given up the best position on the crane, instead choosing a place where he could observe that best position as well as the battlefield. The newcomer appeared to be oblivious to the fact that his location was already under surveillance, and occupied that ideal spot to observe the fight. Consequently, he was exposed to Kiritsugu's line of sight. However, one important factor escaped his calculations.

Kiritsugu once again looked at the pale green shape within the scope. It was an observer he had not seen before. He was covered by a dark robe, a hood over his face. With the hiding tactics, it was definitely Assassin, the still unknown Servant of this Grail War.

The problem now, aside from the oddity of the situation, was that the one currently on top of the derrick crane was a Servant. If he sniped Lancer's Master now, his opponent would be killed instantly, but at the same time it would also expose the shooter's location. Although Assassin was not a class with decisive combat strength, he was nonetheless a supernatural being—a Servant. As a magus, Kiritsugu could never win in such a fight.

He could not expect Saber to help him; distance-wise, Assassin was far closer to him than Saber was. Besides, Saber was not even aware that Kiritsugu was at the scene; he could not hope for the King to come to his aid. Saber was also fully committed in the battle with Lancer. Even though a Servant would lose their mana supply when their Master was killed, the Servant could still remain materialized in this plane with their own strength. Thus, defeating Lancer's Master did not mean that Lancer would immediately be defeated as well.

There was only one thing left—the Command Spells. The authority of the Command Spells was not limited to the scope of the powers of the Servant. If the Servant agreed with the Master's order without resistance, the Command Seal could have effects beyond the Servant's potential, bringing about a miracle. It would not be impossible to instantly transport Saber to Kiritsugu's location to hold off Assassin, but that would leave the defenseless Irisviel directly in front of Lancer.

Kiritsugu gave incessant thought to the problem, combining various elements, and finally came to a conclusion. Although it was the ideal opportunity to finish off Lancer's Master, it would have to pass for the night. With that decided, it would not do to have doubts about anything else.

"Maiya, keep an eye on Assassin. I'll observe Lancer."

"Understood."

Kiritsugu sighed soundlessly, lowered the bipod of the Walther, and continued calmly observing the scene through the scope.

Since he had decided to abandon this opportunity, Saber's effort tonight was as good as wasted. If he could refrain from showing his Noble Phantasm or escaping immediately with Irisviel, he would have to extend his thanks to her—But he was a haughty and proud Heroic Spirit, and such possibilities were only his conjectures. But it would not be a bad idea to see, just once, how capable his subordinate really is.

Grimly, he muttered under his breath, mute to the world outside. "The outcome will depend on you, King of Knights."

* * *

 _154 hours, 3 minutes ago…_

The confrontation between Saber and Lancer had not yet progressed beyond competition. The avenue was a miserable wreck from the scars carved into it. Two storehouses had already collapsed, and a hundred square meters of asphalt had been torn up. Turned into a battlefield, the area looked like a hurricane had came and gone. In the midst of that disaster, still without a single scratch, Saber and Lancer glared at each other, preparing their next move. Neither showed any sign of exhaustion.

"There's no honor in battling unannounced, but—"

Lancer started speaking to Saber, quiet impatience flowing into both tips of her spears, her gaze keeping its freshness.

"Anyway, I have to give you credit. Coming so far without any sweat, you're one heck of a warrior."

"Such unnecessary modesty, Lancer." Holding his invisible sword, Saber put a smile on his lips once more. "Although I do not know your name, you honor me with your spearplay and your compliments. I am thankful for that."

Neither knew the other's history; they had no connection, these two warriors from a different country, but their hearts were surely connected. Both prided themselves on their well-honed skills and their strength. Having met an equal opponent, they paid mutual respect of their own free will—They both had a warrior's pride in their hearts; the two Heroic Spirits understood as much. But—

"Enough of this playtime, Lancer."

Both Saber and Irisviel were surprised by the cold voice which came from nowhere.

"Lancer's ... Master?!" Stiffening, Irisviel took a look around, but there was no human form to be seen. She could not tell whether the unnatural echo of the voice came from a man or woman, nor could she locate its source. Perhaps it was camouflage, an illusion. It did not seem the enemy would reveal themself to Irisviel anytime.

"Don't drag this fight out any further. Saber is a formidable enemy. Make it quick—you may unveil your Noble Phantasm."

Saber's face stiffened at the unseen magus's words. Noble Phantasm—He was urging his Servant to bare her fangs seriously.

"Understood, master."

In contrast to his earlier character, Lancer's voice dropped quietly to agitation, and she changed her weapon grip. Without hesitation, she launched the elegant spear in her right hand towards the Saber servant. Barely, he managed to dodge, but the unnatural sheen to the thrown spear was off to him.

"Then... Is it that spear...?"

Before Saber's eyes, Lancer hefted the deep crimson spear over her shoulder. Mana now rose from the tip of the spear like an ominous mirage.

"—That's it. From this point on, I'm out to do you in." Lancer muttered with a low voice, her lethal weapon finally exposed, and changed her stance, holding it with both hands. Likewise, Saber lowered his sword, measuring the distance between Lancer and himself with greater caution.

The exposing of one's Noble Phantasm had two effects.

One—demonstration of the immense power of one's deadliest move as its true name is announced. Take for instance Saber's ultimate secret move. He had _Excalibur: the Sword of Promised Victory_ currently protected behind a bounded field of invisibility, but if he threw away the camouflage and shouted its true name, his sacred sword would blast a stream of light that could mow down a thousand soldiers. Truly an anti-fortress Noble Phantasm that could turn the ground into scorched earth, it was not to be used on a whim, only as a final resort.

Along with it, weapons could also carry the nature of a Noble Phantasm. In Saber's case, his _Invisible Air_ was such an example. By itself, it did not have the capacity to annihilate the enemy; it was a Noble Phantasm more suited in battle as a piercing weapon. Although not a powerful attack, it was easier to use, and could bring victory if used well employed as a trump card.

Lancer's red spear was probably the latter, by Saber's intuition. She would continue to exchanging blows with Saber. He did not expect the next strike in this fight to be decisive. The two closed the distance, sliding their feet silently but with mounting tension.

Lancer made the first move. Unlike the earlier acrobatic freedom of her spear, this was a much simpler stab in a straight line, a stabbing thrust that guessed at the length of Saber's blade hidden by Invisible Air, casting aside all caution of it.

Reflexively, Saber went to parry Lancer's spear with his sword. It was just a common strike, neither too serious nor too sharp, but… Disaster came like a squall. Between the entangled spear and sword, an abrupt, unexpected gale rolled in and blew around.

" _Gáe Bolg."_

* * *

 _Word Count: 12,091 words_

 **Author's Note:** Alright, those of you who've stuck around, I'd like to formally apologize for my delays. Life really has it out for me, and I've been dealing with some stuff. Five months between chapters is really long, and I should've had this done weeks ago, I'm sorry.

I really hate cutting this chapter here, because it's only about halfway into Act 3, but I feel like a 20k word chapter in one sitting is a bit excessive. At the very least, I'm hoping to get the second half out before April (Don't skin me alive if I don't, School hates me, eep), so in the next couple weeks, stay tuned.


	4. Act IV: Berserker

_Command Spells._

 _The ranks of angels._

 _These were the keys to manage the penultimate of power that could eradicate any hindrance in its path._

 _In the Holy Grail War, each of seven magi are granted a weapon of unmatched power._

 _Seven types of heroic spirits._

 _The magi who had each received the rank corresponding to an angel are granted one belonging to one type._

 _We call these by the name of 'servants'._

 _Beings that exceed the mysteries of magic._

 _The strongest of mankind's fantasies._

 _Might that did not fade in the slightest even when compared to modern weapons that could flatten cities in a blink of an eye._

 _Figures that, originally, could not be employed by wielders of mystery of the likes of mere magi. Incarnations of grand heroes who had left their marks throughout history and became legends. Unrivaled existences that, for the first time, could be brought to the present realm through the unfathomable power of the Holy Grail._

 _Heroic spirits, although strong, were foreign elements._

 _Although much of the time they manifest as humans, that did not mean they were truly human._

 _Thus, command seals are etched onto the bodies of magi._

 _Fragments of the Holy Grail's power that allowed magi to bring existences far beyond themselves, heroic spirits, under their submission._

 _Each magi bore three in total._

 _Thus, three times could a heroic spirit be coerced, or perhaps empowered._

 _Without these, a Holy Grail War cannot be established._

 _(An Excerpt from an Olden Notebook)_

* * *

 _154 hours, 1 minute ago..._

Lancer made the first move. Unlike the earlier acrobatic freedom of her spear, this was a much simpler stab in a straight line, a stabbing thrust that guessed at the length of Saber's blade hidden by Invisible Air, casting aside all caution of it.

Reflexively, Saber went to parry Lancer's spear with his sword. It was just a common strike, neither too serious nor too sharp, but… Disaster came like a squall. Between the entangled spear and sword, an abrupt, unexpected gale rolled in and blew around.

" _Gáe Bolg._ "

"Wha—?!" Exclaiming in shock, Saber retreated three steps from Lancer's spear. But as if time itself was being rewritten, all resistance he pushed against with his sword suddenly disappeared, and a sharp, stabbing hell entered his chest. His pupils dilated.

Lancer calmly resumed her stance without advancing. Watching the scene, Irisviel could not understand what just happened. The gust of wind only lasted an instant, but it did not emit much mana. It was a wind of enigmatic origin, but definitely no threat from Lancer. Nevertheless, Saber was not the only one shocked. Lancer grimaced.

"So that's how it is."

Arthur couldn't even spare a gasp as the red spear was lodged from his chest swiftly, and retracted back into the Lancer's hand. Only two centimeters to the left, and surely… Saber cursed himself. His heart was racing, and he was bleeding out.

Saber, now silent, could not comprehend Lancer's mutter. They both understood the reason behind this mysterious phenomenon. The wind had come from Saber's sword... More specifically, it was Invisible Air's undoing.

The bounded field of condensed pressure which refracted light had leaked out in an instant. The moment it clashed with Lancer's spear, the mana controlling the wind around the sword had come loose. And at that moment, Lancer had caught a glimpse of the true sword's shape inside the torn bounded field. Yet Lancer's murmur probably told that it was Invisible Air's doing which prevented a winning blow. But at what cost…?

"Tch." Saber exclaimed with a tisk. Indeed, with Invisible Air alone, he could not defeat this enemy. To make things worse, what remained of Excalibur's camouflage had evaporated...

* * *

"... Damn it. This is bad." Rider, standing on the arch of the Fuyuki Bridge and overlooking the battle taking place in the warehouse district, muttered softly as he stood up.

"Wh-what is?" Seeing the giant Servant impatient for the first time, Waver became agitated and questioned Rider while clinging to the steel frame.

"Lancer brought out a decisive technique. Seems she wants the match decided quickly."

"Wouldn't that be favorable for us?"

"Fool, what are you talking about?" Rider stomped his heel heavily on the steel frame he was standing on. The tremor shook Waver, his body plastered to the frame, to his very bones, and another shriek rose.

"I wanted to wait out the battle's development before everyone arrives, but by the look of things, Saber's going to have a disadvantage, and it would be too late to attack by then."

"Too late?—Didn't you want to strike when they have all become exhausted from fighting each other?"

"... I think you misunderstood my intentions, boy." Rider furrowed his brows and tilted his head to look at the Master lying beside his feet, disappointed by the performance of the humorless clown. "I did hope that other Servants would take up Lancer's bait. Isn't it obvious? Rather than picking them out one by one, it's better to get them all together and have a great battle royale!"

Waver forgot to answer; his realization of the difference in their understanding shocked him out of his wits. "Get them all together ... A great battle royale?"

"Yes. It's such a rare opportunity to cross blades with the greatest heroes from each age. If all six of them are here, I won't let any one of them get away." A fierce and dangerous growl rumbled from Rider's throat, but there was a tint of laughter as he curled the ends of his lips upwards. Waver realized that only this man could wear a grin like that.

"Now then. Saber and Lancer—they both have the flaming spirit of true warriors. I admire them; it would be a pity to let them die like this."

"What else is there to it apart from killing them?! Isn't that the point of the Holy Grail—Waaa—!" Waver's slightly hysterical voice was mercilessly interrupted by a smack to his forehead.

"Victory without ruin, domination without disgrace. That is true conquest!" Rider proclaimed with his chest held upright. He unsheathed the sword by his waist and sliced through the hollow sky with a swing, cleaving apart the empty space. An enormous shining Noble Phantasm immediately appeared, accompanied by spiraling torrents of galloping mana. Waver, feeling like he was about to be blown over by the sudden storm, swallowed his screams and hugged the steel frame even tighter.

"Observation is over. Let us join the battle, boy."

Before he finished those words, Rider, his mantle flowing, had mounted the Noble Phantasm with a leap.

"Idiot idiot idiot! You're insane!"

"Oh? If you don't want to go, you can stay here and watch."

"I'll go! Bring me along, idiot!"

"Good, that's more like my Master!" Rider, laughing brightly, lifted Waver by the collar gently and let him ride beside himself. "Now roll on, Gordius Wheel • Wheel of Heaven's Authority!"

The Noble Phantasm answered the call of the King of Conquerors with a thunderous tremor.

* * *

Gales surged in a confusion of life and death. As swordsman and spearwoman slid past each other, flowers of bright crimson blood fluttered and bloomed briefly before fading away in the blink of an eye.

Saber charged past and stopped. The two of them turned simultaneously and stood straight, the intention to battle not fading even for an instant. Both Heroic Spirits were still in one piece.

In her off-hand, Lancer had summoned the elegant, barbed spear back to her hand.

Finally, there was a chance the battle might shift away from a mere trading of blows. At the critical moment, Saber took in the situation and made a quick decision that prolonged their duel.

The red spear, poised to pierce Saber, did not land on his chest, but on his left arm. At the same time, Saber's golden sword, directed in an upthrust, deviated just a little from Lancer's vitals, its edge aimed at Lancer's left arm—curiously, both were injured in the same place.

"You still won't let me win easily ... That adamant manner of yours is most excellent."

Lancer stared at Saber with a desolate smile, desperately trying not to pay attention to the her elbow wound. Expectedly, like a film on rewind, Lancer's injury was healed without any contact, and left no trace behind. A Servant's self-healing would not allow her to recover that quickly; it must be the healing magecraft of her hidden, observing Master.

Unlike Lancer, Saber's pain and anxiety could not be hidden so much. There was a definite imbalance in power between Lancer's airborne spear and the sword clutched tightly in Saber's two hands. By appearances, the wound dealt by the spear on Saber's forearm was rather light compared to Lancer's injury.

"Irisviel, heal!"

"I healed it! I did, but ..." Irisviel was even more flustered than the injured Saber. She was undoubtedly a first-rate magus; the strength and intensity of her craft needed no mention. An exception even in the world of magi, she possessed a body designed and manufactured for the sake of magecraft. It was impossible for her to make any mistakes in basic magecraft such as healing. On the off-chance that it does happen, Irisviel would know how to deal with it herself. And yet—

"No, the healing did work. You are at full health, Saber."

Saber, not daring to lower his guard, measured Lancer cautiously, at the same time staring at his arm.

The wound had sealed and cauterized, but it was still numb with pain. The most important digit on his hand, the thumb, could not be moved; he could not exert enough strength to grip the sword hilt. He knew there was nothing wrong with Irisviel's healing methods, but the arm hadn't been fully cured. His crippled left thumb was completely immobile.

Lancer paid no attention to Saber, nor did she resume her attack. Full of confidence, she bent down and retrieved her spear which had fell to the ground.

"Before my Noble Phantasm, Gáe Bolg Alternative • Soaring Spear of Piercing Death. Though the effects would be much greater if it hit vitals…"

Perhaps she thought it pointless to keep up the masquerade after demonstrating the effects of her Noble Phantasm; Lancer spoke the true name of her Noble Phantasm with no hesitation.

Lancer, the two spears in her grip, began to swing them exaggeratedly as one would spread a pair of wings, in exactly the same manner as when the battle first began. It was not a gesture to seduce, but a unique battle style mastered through arduous training.

"I understand now. It is a cursed spear. Those wounded by it become robbed of their vitality. I should have noticed this earlier."

A crimson spear that never missed, a cursed spear which stops the enemy's movement—it was easy to figure out once they were put together. Based on legends, the glorious name praised by the Celtic legends of heroes was actually remotely related to King Arthur. It was quite incredulous that this had not occurred to Saber.

"The Legendary Warrior, and a great teacher to many heroes… Scáthach of the Land of Shadows. I did not know the Grail granted you the honour of participating in this war."

"Therein lies the beauty of this war for the Holy Grail. But the honor is mine. For one who has traversed time and space to join the Throne of Heroes by invitation would not mistake your golden sword for any other."

This Servant, a participant in the fourth Holy Grail War, was Lancer—the Heroic Spirit of the Celts, Scáthach. Lancer, feeling refreshed despite the careless blowing of her cover, narrowed her crimson eyes.

"To compete against the famous King of Knights for revenge on your sword blow—Hmph, I would not give up this opportunity either."

As Heroic Spirits separated by time, they had no historical connections. Through the legends of the past from the era that invited them forth, they got to know about heroes that came after them. No doubt Scáthach also knew of the legend of King Arthur which brought fame to her homeland after her time.

"Since our names are known to each other, I challenge you as a knight to determine the victor of this mundane battle—although I have already wounded your arm. Do you find this unfair, Saber?"

"Ridicule me not. 'Tis more shameful to earn your worry over such a small injury of mine." Saber declared resolutely, a bit of quip in his voice which drawled on the accent of his homeland, while he grit his teeth.

Just one blow was not a big deal… Saber compressed the surrounding air, once more sealing his golden sword inside Invisible Air • Boundary of the Wind King.

His arm would eventually be healed. The curse of the barbed spear most likely would be dispelled after the spear itself deactivates, or if its owner Scáthach had fallen. He had to break through Lancer's twin spears with his remaining right hand. With the aid of mana bursts, single-handedly wielding his sword would not be too painful. But the strength that could only be delivered with both hands was now sealed, and currently he could not use his ultimate attack: Excalibur • Sword of Promised Victory.

Far from cowering, his fighting spirit now soared. It was a meticulous plan to use one of her two Noble Phantasms first, and cunningly lure her enemy into carelessness. Saber was not angry at the trick; rather, he eagerly wanted to applaud Lancer's scheme.

The enemy was perfect. To encounter such a flawless enemy in his first battle of this Holy Grail War; as a warrior who lived by the sword, his fighting spirit was encouraged by the opportunity. At the same time, Lancer, standing opposite Saber, was also forcing herself to face him not only with tricks, but all of her wits in this ultimate battle.

Lancer sensed Saber's vigor without words. A satisfied grin crept up her mouth. She felt the same way as he. She admired Saber for sacrificing his left arm to block the surprise attack of her Gáe Bolg Alternative which was unleashed for the kill. That admiration would add an extra sheen to the joy of winning this battle. As knights, each Heroic Spirit echoed the other's desire to do battle.

"Prepare yourself, Saber. I will win this time."

"Only if I do not win first, Lancer."

The two exchanged bold provocations as each planned their next, fatal attack, slowly and cautiously approaching the other. The holy sword and demonic spear were at the edge of an explosive situation. The air, cold, clear and full of tension, was suddenly cleaved by a thunderous ruckus.

"—?!"

Saber and Lancer, silenced in awe, both turned to look at the south-eastern sky. There, the source of the sound was clearly visible to all eyes. A flying object drew a straight line across the sky and was headed directly at them, shedding violet sparks of lightning in its trail which created that characteristic sound. Irisviel was dumbstruck, her mouth agape in shock.

"... A chariot ...?"

It appeared to be an antique chariot with two prows. In place of war horses, handsome bulls with muscles rippling like waves were yoked on the shaft. Their hooves ploughed the empty space, pulling the luxurious, splendid chariot forward. No, the chariot was not merely floating. The wheels boomed; it was not solid ground but lightning that the bulls stood upon. Each time the bulls' hooves and the chariot stomped upon the sky, violet lightning spread like a web, rolling the air upwards with a deafening roar. The mana that spurted from the lightning could only be matched if Lancer and Saber unleashed every single ounce of their strength. Only a Servant's Noble Phantasm could be so strange, or emit so much mana. Without a doubt, a third Servant had decided to interrupt Saber and Lancer's duel by showing himself.

Saber and Lancer both tensed and stared at the suddenly arriving chariot in silence. Irisviel's alarm was obvious, and the unseen Master of Lancer should also have felt a shiver of fear. To be enveloped by such an enormous aura of lightning and thunder, the Heroic Spirit was most likely some sort of thunder god. And a thunder god with a connection to bulls; the first one that came to mind would be the highest god of Mount Olympus. Although this chariot could not be called a Heroic Spirit itself, even as a Heroic Spirit's armament it was very threatening.

The lightning-treading chariot circled above Lancer and Saber menacingly, then slowed down and landed. It was positioned exactly between the two Heroic Spirits, blocking both sword and lance. The dazzling light that ceased as the chariot landed revealed the figure of a muscular man, poised with commanding presence at the helm of the chariot.

"Both of you, put down your arms. A king has come!"

This casual bellow was almost as loud as the thunder that rolled when he rode upon the air. The fiery glare had almost the power to reflect the opposing sword blade and spear tip. Lancer and Saber, famous Heroic Spirits both, would not be scared by a yell or two.

However, this new Heroic Spirit did not seek to attack them, but joined in only to intervene in their duel. The two of them began to hesitate, unable to comprehend such an action.

The imposing owner of the chariot, having dented Lancer and Saber's vigor, continued speaking sternly.

"My name is Al-Iskandar, King of Conquerors. I participate in this Holy Grail War as Rider."

The bold declaration utterly astounded all who were present. In the war of the Holy Grail, no Servant would declare his identity, giving away clues to his battle plans. Most agitated of all was Waver, sitting beside Rider.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, moron?!" His fear of Rider's looming bulk already forgotten, Waver shrieked at Rider while grasping the mantle of the King of Conquerors.

Slam—the merciless finger flick echoed in the night, and the protesting voice died down; the only attention it got came from the middle finger of Rider's right hand. Rider asked, glancing at Lancer and Saber on either side of him.

"You who slaughter each other for the sake of obtaining the Grail: I want to ask you something before you engage again. I don't know what expectations you have of the Grail. But now, consider for a moment whether your wishes are even greater than the desire to possess all of earth and heaven."

Although Saber still did not understood what he meant, his instincts told her that those words were full of danger. His pupils widened subconsciously.

"What do you want to say?"

"Hum? I believe I was quite clear." Rider maintained his dignity, but his voice became more gentle and amicable. "I have descended upon the battlefield; do you have any intention of passing up the Holy Grail to me? If you forfeit your claim to the Grail, I will regard you as friends, and share with you the joy of conquering the world."

—A random suggestion. Saber was dazed before he could even feel angry. Standing opposite him, Lancer was also stunned speechless. Here was Iskandar, King of Conquerors, an extraordinary Heroic Spirit indeed. Certainly, there existed no one else like him in all human history, none so eager to manifest his ambition of conquering the world.

Suddenly jumping out like that, proudly declaring his true name and demanding the respect of others before he had shown his worth in battle—those were the actions of one with no desire to join the war for the Holy Grail. It was the first time anyone had seen something like this; discerning whether it was a wise decision or a foolish move was difficult.

"I admire your boldness in declaring your identity just then, yet… I find it hard to agree to your proposals."

Lancer shook her head with a bitter smile, but there was no laughter in her eyes. Sparks flew from a glare as intimidating as a sharp sword, colliding head-on with the scornful sideways glance of the King of Conquerors.

"I will be the one to lift the Grail; that is the oath I took with the only new king of this era. The one to hold the Grail in his hands will not be you, Rider."

"... Did you stop my duel with Lancer just to declare this nonsense?"

Saber immediately followed Lancer's words with her question. His expression was different from the beautiful spearwoman's; there was no laughter to be found. Rider's suggestion was extremely aggravating to one as serious as he.

"Your joke was overdone, King of Conquerors. This humiliation is unbearable for a knight."

Lancer and Saber both cast hostile glares at Rider. Rider mumbled as though troubled, massaging his temples with his knuckles subconsciously. Although Rider appeared to be running out of plans, his majestic pose did not change at all. He was rather rare in that regard.

"... Are you offering me terms?"

"Enough!"

Feeling that Rider might make some attempt at flattery, Lancer and Saber simultaneously refused him. Saber continued with disappointment written on his face.

"Furthermore, I am lord who rules the kingdom of Britain. No matter what kind of king one is, one can never bow before another lord."

"Oh? The king of Britain?" Rider, showing an interest in Saber's declaration, raised his eyebrows. "How surprising. The renowned King of Knights! Who could have guessed such a powerful servant would have struggled against such a physically weak opponent?"

"—And would you like to try the blade of that servant, King of Conquerors?" Saber lifted his sword and lowered his voice. His left hand was still powerless to hold the sword; its four fingers were just resting on the hilt. The fighting spirit that rose wavering from the blade, however, was more solemn and majestic then it was earlier. Rider furrowed his brows and sighed lengthily.

"My—a breakdown of negotiations, eh? What a waste. That's too bad." As Rider looked down and mumbled to himself, he met a glance, full of hatred, that looked up from beside his feet.

"Ri—de—er ..."

Still feeling the pain from his swollen forehead, but bearing a regret more tragic than it, Waver's deep cries sounded through the air.

"Now what? Repeating the same words about conquest, and still earning the ire of others. Do you really think you can beat Saber and Lancer?"

The bulky Servant faced his Master's questions without remorse, and laughed heartily instead.

"Er, well, wasn't there a saying which goes 'actions speak louder than words'?"

"And do those actions involve saying your true name out loud like that?!"

Waver was dizzy with anger. he continued to hammer at Rider's breastplate, breaking out in tears, while Rider just stood there. Looking at this sad situation, Irisviel felt neither contempt nor sympathy. She just felt she could take no more. The atmosphere had subtly relaxed, when—

"Oh? It is you, of all people."

—It suddenly tensed again as the low, resentful voice crept along the ground. It was the still-concealed Master of Lancer. He had gone quiet after urging Lancer to use his Noble Phantasm. Now, he interjected to ask Waver's purpose in coming here. It sounded completely different from the tone earlier; something that exposed a heart drunk with hatred.

"And I was wondering what you had stolen my Holy Relic for in your outrage—I did not think you actually had the guts to join the Grail War on your own, Waver Velvet."

Waver heard someone calling his name with malice, and knew he was the subject of that hatred. He could guess the owner of that voice.

"Ah ... uh ..."

How could he not have predicted it? As a lecturer of Clock Tower, Holy Relics for other Heroic Spirits could still be prepared even if Iskandar's cloak was stolen. Therefore, here in Fuyuki, it should not be surprising to see this man standing before him as an enemy.

"What a pity. A shame, really. I only wished for my poor, beloved student to be happy. Waver, someone as mediocre as you only deserves only the calm, stable life of a commoner."

Waver was dazed with delusion, unable to determine where the voice was coming from. He had lost count of the times he experienced that nauseating feeling in his stomach—Lecturer Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald. The feeling of those crystal blue eyes, holding a gaze of humiliation and pity, glaring down from the lecturer's mean and slender face somewhere above his head—Waver felt it acutely once again. He was dying to return a few smart remarks to the lecturer. He had skillfully made the Heroic Spirit Iskandar a Servant who obeyed him, before his lecturer managed to do the same. Was that not the best revenge for the humiliation he suffered at Clock Tower all this time?

 _Yes. We are no longer teacher and student. He is now my true enemy. I can hate him as much as I want, even going as far as taking his life. He is undoubtedly my true enemy now._ During the few years Waver spent at Clock Tower, he hated that haughty lecturer at every waking and sleeping moment, and a few times even entertained thoughts of killing him—yet, this was the first time he had faced such enmity from his lecturer. The young boy experienced the true gaze of a magus for the first time—a gaze pregnant with the desire to kill.

However, the feeling was mutual. The sharp-sighted owner of the voice caught the petrified fear on Waver's face. With a tone of icy mockery that set Waver's hair standing on end, he continued to menace Waver playfully.

"Well, I can't help it, little Waver. Let me tutor you a little longer. The true meaning of the slaughter between magi—I will teach you without reservation the terror and pain of the kill. You should be proud."

Waver was already shivering with fear, paying no heed to the humiliation brought by those words. To be a true magus, one must be prepared to be killed. Waver, previously knowing this theory only through books, now keenly comprehended its teachings. The glare, shot from who-knows-where, was more lethal still. The moment a magus wanted to kill is the moment the death sentence is pronounced—Waver did not understand that until now.

Something enfolded the slender, lone shoulders of the boy shivering from terror, in a gentle, powerful embrace. Waver was befuddled by the rough yet gentle touch. The hand of the stalwart Servant, coarse fingers thick with calluses, previously only induced dread from the short Master.

"Oi, magus. If I am not mistaken, you were supposed to be my Master instead of this kid."

Rider called out to the unseen Master, whose face was covered, twisted by a huge smile of malevolent pity.

"Ridiculous! A man who deserves to be my Master should be a warrior who rides with me into the battlefield, not a coward who does not even dare to show his face."

Silence descended; only the anger of the unseen Master could be felt spreading across the night's air. Rider suddenly laughed into the empty sky, a roaring laugh that exhausted the air in his lungs.

"Come on out! There must be others; friends hiding in the darkness, spying on us!"

Saber and Lancer were both shocked.

"—What are you doing, Rider?"

Facing an inquiring Saber, the King of Conquerors gave a thumbs-up accompanied by a hearty smile.

"Saber and Lancer, your battle is most excellent and fine. The clear sound of sword and spear clashing would have attracted more than one Heroic Spirit, don't you agree?"

Irisviel trembled at the thought that Kiritsugu might have been discovered in his unknown hiding place, but Rider only had other Servants in mind. Delivering the deafening sound to every corner of the surroundings, he bellowed once again.

"What a shame. What a shame, really! You heroes of might gathered here at Fuyuki! Seeing the prowess displayed by Saber and Lancer, does it not invoke any sentiment from you? Bearing a name deserving of praise, yet concealing yourself and spying in secrecy; what cowardice! Even Heroic Spirits would be troubled upon hearing this, huh?"

After another fit of laughter, Rider tilted his head with a fearless expression at the corner of his mouth, and ended with a challenging glance.

"You Heroic Spirits invited by the Holy Grail, gather here this moment! Those too cowardly to show their faces, spare yourself the humiliation that Al-Iskandar, King of Conquerors, will deal to you. Prepare yourself!"

Rider's enthusiastic speech reached even Emiya Kiritsugu, who was hiding in the distant container port conducting his observation. It was also heard by Maiya, opposite Kiritsugu's position. The minds of ancient heroes were so far removed from Kiritsugu's own that he couldn't even sigh in response.

"... That fool managed to conquer the world?"

"..."

On the opposite end of the intercom, Maiya likewise could not understand the situation. Like Kiritsugu and Maiya, Kirei in his secret observation also saw all of Rider's actions and heard his senseless words through Caster's eyes and ears. From the distant Fuyuki church, Kirei had informed Tohsaka Tokiomi of everything he saw and heard via the jewel communicator beside him.

"... This is bad." The irate response was heard from the distant Tohsaka residence. Kirei furrowed his brows—although he knew the speaker could not see him—and nodded.

"Indeed, it is."

Tokiomi and Kirei did not disregard Rider's drivel like Emiya Kiritsugu did. They both knew one particular Heroic Spirit who would not ignore a challenge like that. And boy would she be pissed.

* * *

Act IV: Berserker

 _153 hours, 53 minutes ago…_

A golden light accompanied Rider's bellow. As the light petered out, no surprise remained among the spectators. Without guessing, one could tell that a fourth Servant had made an appearance, in response to Rider's provocation. The gathering of the four Servants signaled the beginning of hostilities—a dreadful prospect. Nobody could possibly conjecture what the next turn of events would be.

As expected, the golden light came from atop a street pole, ten meters above, where a figure in shining armor could be seen standing. Waver held his breath at the sight of such dazzling

dignity.

"This is ..."

He had seen her for only an instant previously, but there was no mistaking such an intense existence. The one standing calmly atop the street light was none other than the enigmatic Servant who had sent into oblivion with overwhelmingly destructive power, Caster who was invading the Tohsaka mansion the previous night.

This woman, her entire body covered in armor, could not be Assassin; and if she had materialized in response to Rider's call, it meant she had the sense to recognize the provocation, thus she could not be Berserker either. By elimination, the only possibility left was—the last of the three Knight classes, Archer.

"I did not expect to see in one night two fools who have the insolence to call themselves 'kings,' yet would ignore me." With these first words, the displeased golden Heroic Spirit looked from above at the three Servants with a scornful glare. Her arrogance and tone, though comparable to Rider's haughtiness, differed in nature. Such cruelty and mercilessness was not present in the voice and gaze of the King of Conquerors. Even Rider had not expected anyone more domineering than himself to show up, as he was stroking his chin with a bewildered look void of malice.

"You are mistaken. I, Iskandar, am the one who is well known throughout the world as the King of Conquerors."

"Fool. The only hero in Heaven and on Earth who is a real king, is I. The rest are a bunch of curs."

Archer brushed him aside with a reviling declaration. Color had already drained from Saber's face, but the tolerant Rider drew an amazed sigh, ignoring it altogether.

"Before you say this much, should you not announce yourself first? Would such a king be ashamed of his fame?"

At Rider's banter, Archer's crimson eyes grew with proud anger as she glared at the giant under her.

"Are you questioning me? A lowly mongrel questioning a king like me?"

Frankly, Rider's point was not unreasonable, but to Archer it was incorrigibly disrespectful. It had nothing to do with protecting interests by concealing one's true name, but rather, came about from personal irritability; the golden Heroic Spirit was releasing an unmistakable murderous intent.

"I have granted you the honor of my presence, yet you could not recognize me; such ignorance does not deserve to live." At Archer's conclusion, the space around her distorted in a haze— the next instant, the glow of beautiful blades protruded from the empty space. Bare blades as well as spears; each of them decorated with eye-catching ornaments, emitting a fierce magical power. Clearly they were not common weapons, but Noble Phantasms. By now, it was doubtless that this demonstration was the same as the previous night's—the mysterious attack that had wiped out Caster one-sidedly. The ones who had observed the Tohsaka mansion the previous night understood that.

"... H!"

Waver was struck with awe. The unseen Master of Lancer gulped. Kiritsugu and Maiya, observing from great distance, felt the tension as well. And now, one man—one who, like Rider and Waver, had followed Lancer's movements throughout the day, and now observed while hidden in the storehouses… Like the other man spying on the battlefield through the vision of a familiar, he stared at Archer's strange battle preparation.

Yes, it was undoubtedly the same. Archer was definitely the golden Servant who had defended the Tohsaka mansion from Caster's invasion the previous night. In other words, this was Tohsaka Tokiomi's Servant.

"Haha, hahahaha ..." In the darkness, an old hatred burning in his one bloodshot eye, Matou Kariya let a laugh escape. Now was the time he had anxiously waited for. He had endured a year of living hell, looking forward to this instant. Tohsaka Tokiomi... Husband of Aoi and the father of Sakura, and also the man who had trampled the happiness of both mother and child. The hated, cursed, sworn enemy who had taken everything that Kariya wished for; the one who defiled it all. Now, old resentment was cleared away. This was the time to face that man, changing the hatred boiling in his heart into a sword.

"Kill him ..." The hatred filling his voice brought unimaginable pleasure. Kariya now understood the meaning of the saying revenge is a dish best served cold. Tokiomi himself could wait; his Servant must first be demolished, to make him lose the Holy Grail War. The thought of Tokiomi's face, smeared in frustrating humiliation, incited him to maddening excitement.

"Kill him, Berserker! Pulverize that Archer!"

At the same time elsewhere, an unexpected torrent of mana was swept in a roar. Under the watchful gaze of all present, the flowing mana gathered and solidified, materializing into the shadow of a well-built man.

The figure straightened near the four-lane road that just then was Saber's and Lancer's battlefield, at a spot two blocks further toward the sea. Truly, it was a fantastic apparition that could only be described as a shadow. Judging by the width of the tall figure's shoulders, this was the body of a man, completely covered in full armor with no opening. It was different from the silver armor wrapping Saber or the luxurious golden armor of Archer; this man's armor was rust red, without any delicate ornament or polished luster. It was as if the iron of a white knights armor had been stained repeatedly with blood. The face, also invisible, was covered by a rustic helmet. In the depth of a thinly carved slit was the ghastly glow of a pair of eyes, a glare burning like a flame.

A Servant; plain fact. But which Heroic Spirit did the sinister appearance belong to? This knight had none of the radiance that bore the other Servants who were already gathered—the glow possessed by Arthur, Scáthach, Iskandar, as well as the yet unannounced golden Archer—the expression of a Heroic Spirit's pride, the honor of the legends acclaimed and desired by all. This was an essential element of their Noble Phantasm.

But the newly appeared knight had none of it. In that sense he was closer to Assassin. The aura around the armor harbored a negative surge. Rather than a Heroic Spirit, one might label him a vengeful spirit instead.

"Hey, King of Conquerors. Did you invite him too?" Still observing the servant carefully, Lancer railed at Rider with a light tone. Rider grimaced at the verbal jab.

"Invited, eh? That one doesn't look like he'll take any negotiation, ugh."

Nothing but blood-lust flowed from the knight. Even the whirlwind of mana seemed ominous, like a groan filled with deep hatred. Berserker! The unanimous conclusion needed no confirmation. Such a fiendish surge of murderous intent could only come from the Heroic Spirit of Fury.

"So, kid. What kind of Servant is he?" Rider asked Waver, but the small Master shook his head, dumbfounded.

"... I don't know. I simply can't tell."

"What? You're a Master, aren't you? His strong and weak points should be visible to you, eh?"

A Master who had made a contract with a Servant could read the status of a Servant using powers of clairvoyance. This was a unique ability granted by the Grail which had summoned the Heroic Spirits. It would not work for fake Masters such as Irisviel, but Waver, rightful Master of Rider, could see the other Servants' abilities and compare them to Rider's, so as to guide him most efficiently in battle. He already had a clear understanding of the faculties of Saber, Lancer and Archer. But—

"I said I can't see it! That guy is definitely a Servant, But I can't tell anything about his stats!"

Rider frowned suspiciously at Waver's confused explanation, and looked anew at the dark knight. The armor revealed no characteristic features and left no clue about the lineage of its maker. ... No, not for lack of details; it was all blurred.

Not only Rider, but Saber, Lancer and Irisviel had also noticed the same thing. No matter how carefully one watched, one could not perceive Berserker's figure precisely. Like out-of-focus photography, the outlines of the armor were continuously shifting like a mist, and occasionally one would even see a double or triple outline. Somehow, the material seemed to be made of hallucinations. Vision was not the only affected perception; their Masters' clairvoyance was likewise degraded as well. It was likely some sort of unique curse that disguised the bearer's true identity; it could not be a skill proper to the Berserker class.

"Looks like another troublesome enemy we have here ..."

Saber nodded at Irisviel's murmur. "That's not all. With four opponents present, we cannot make any careless moves."

In a regular battle royal, the most reliable tactic was to smash the quantitatively inferior with concentrated effort. Thus, if they were to show any weakness now, they might be forced toward the worst outcome—a hopeless four-against-one battle. Even Saber would not stand a chance. Which Heroic Spirit would start attacking which, and who would take that chance to make his move? To survive here, one had to see through the movements of the others; this applied to all Heroic Spirits.

Presently, Rider was not targeting anyone in particular. His current intention was probably to have a look at the Heroic Spirits participating in the Holy Grail War. But as one who knows no fear, he was the kind of man who would stand up to any challenge.

Archer clearly saw Rider and Saber as her enemies. The golden Heroic Spirit seemed ill-humored toward the two who called themselves the King of Conquerors and the King of Knights. Her preferred target was likely the one who provoked her, Rider.

There was one problematic person left. Berserker. No one could figure out the knight's intention in materializing right at this point. It added to the mayhem which none had control of. No prudent Master would think of pitching his Servant in the midst of this chaos.

Without a doubt, anyone would be just as wary of Berserker, with one exception: There was no doubt or hesitation in Archer's crimson eyes, only absolute anger and a murderous intent, barely held in as she looked down at Berserker. The knight's disgusting stare was aimed only at her, standing on top of the street pole; the golden Heroic Spirit could clearly see that.

"You mad dog, do you expect pity from me?"

A low-life's gaze was as lowly and filthy as its existence. Being the target of such a gaze was an intolerable disgrace for a nobleman. To Archer, who laid claim to the title of King more staunchly than Rider did, Berserker's ill manners made him a complete criminal in her eyes. The treasured swords and spears around her changed in direction; the tips were now fully aimed at the new target: Berserker.

"You shall at least entertain me with your scattering, mongrel." A sword and a spear bustled in the air at the heartless verdict. The weapons shot without warning from nowhere—this must be why the golden Heroic Spirit was of the Archer class. But this impromptu Noble Phantasm was too abnormal. The Noble Phantasm, which should normally be a treasure to the Heroic Spirit, was being pitched carelessly, the way one would casually throw a handful of stones. Still, the destructive power was enormous. The road surface seemed to be attacked by an explosive blast, and the scene was shrouded by the dust of asphalt being pulverized into tiny particles.

There was a collective gulp. In the thick dust, the shadow of a dark, tall figure wavered into their visibility. Berserker stood unharmed. He had merely moved from his starting point, where the road was now a crater. In Berserker's hand, a new weapon, though its exact details were still hazy, it was clearly the Servant's Noble Phantasm.

How many had seen the swift offense and defense? At least, Irisviel and Waver could not understand what had just happened. The plain truth was that Berserker had effortlessly summoned his sword, and with his weapon, he had deflected both strikes.

"That bastard, is he really a Berserker?"

Rider howled a response to Lancer's strained murmur. "For someone who had forsaken his reason for madness, he's a remarkably skilled chap."

Yet, not surprise but rage came to Archer. All kinds of facial expressions distorted her elegant face, frozen in a murderous frenzy.

"—How dare you destroy my treasure?! Do you want to die that badly, you mongrel?!"

The air around Archer started dancing again. Like a halo, a majestic golden brilliance twirled in circles to reveal a flock of new Noble Phantasms—now sixteen of them. Not only spears and swords; there were now axes, hammers and halberds, even items of indefinite usage or origin, bladed weaponry with strange shapes. Every single one of them was polished like a mirror, and an enormous amount of mana flowed from each. None of them were any less than a divine mystery... They were indeed Noble Phantasms, without exception.

 _That's... not possible..._ That was Waver's unspoken thought, and the other Masters and Heroic Spirits probably thought likewise. A Heroic Spirit need not be limited to one Noble Phantasm. Sometimes, one could store three, or even four super weapons that qualify as such. But no one could have that many. Yet—here, Archer was throwing them one after the other as though she had an inexhaustible supply. And none of them were from the battle against Caster the previous night.

"Let's see—how well this little compulsive cur can keep up!"

At Archer's command, the flock of Noble Phantasms floating in the air were let loose, and rushed toward Berserker.

A thunderous roar shook the night air. A flash of light exploded through the sky. A countless number of Noble Phantasms rained down on the warehouse district road, which looked like it had been carpet-bombed. Still, Archer's fierce attack did not stop. The Noble Phantasms, shot at Berserker with enough force to scatter anything away, fell like thunderbolts, striking again… and again… and again. The attack continued, even increasing in intensity—the target, Berserker, just would not fall.

Everyone was shocked. Even in a critical situation with a great number of enemies around, everyone shared the same thought. This was a repeat of the miracle from the first attack. Berserker just deflected the first halberd that came at him, then swung the sword left and right in his right hand, repelling every single one of the subsequent Noble Phantasms away. The technique was subtle and flawless. There was flair to it; even with a Noble Phantasm snatched from Archer, his handling was far from poor.

He was swinging them around freely, like extensions of his arms; it looked like a demonstration of skills polished with favorite weapons he had specialized in for years. Offense and defense followed each other in course.

Unlike the other three Servants, the identities of the Golden Archer and the Bloody Berserker were still mysteries. Saber shuddered at this threat. If they were to advance in the Holy Grail War, they may have to cross arms with these two. But before these beasts which lay beyond the world of reason, just how should they ready themselves to stand up?

"—The golden one seems to be proud of the number of her Noble Phantasms, but the red guy has the worst affinity with her." The two Servants watched silently from the side, as the other one standing there, Rider, spoke confidently.

"Red grows stronger just by attacking, and Goldie throws them so carelessly. What a versatile fellow." Per the calm commentary from the King of Conquerors, Berserker did not retreat one step before Archer's fierce attack. On the contrary, when a more powerful Noble Phantasm flew at him, he would demolish it before it made contact. In fact, the blurry sword on Berserker's hand seemed to be glowing...

The violent roaring sound ceased when the last of the sixteen Noble Phantasms had fallen. In the hollow silence, only Berserker was left amid the settling dust. The surroundings, including the storehouses and street lights, were completely ruined. All the Noble Phantasms were scattered at Berserker's feet or stuck in the rubble around him. Not a single blade had reached the armor.

Berserker nonchalantly raised the Noble Phantasm in his hands and, without any preparation, he swung it in Archer's direction. Perhaps his aim was off, or he had not really tried to hit anything; the glow from the blade arced from the weapon and flew straight into the street light that Archer was standing on, cutting the pole into pieces like a knife through butter. The pole, sliced into three pieces, fell to the ground with a tremor. It was the only thing to fall; the golden Heroic Spirit had jumped before the iron pole was cut into pieces, and landed on the ground apparently unscathed.

"Damned fool... Are you trying to bring me to the same ground as you? Someone like me who should be at the top?" She was unscathed only from a third party's point of view. Archer's rage had reached its critical limit. The wrinkles carved between her eyebrows transformed her good features into an evil omen.

"You deserve death for your insult. You mongrel, I won't leave a single piece of your body intact!"

In anger, Archer howled at Berserker, her eyes burning crimson. For the third time, the space around her warped to let a collection of blades materialize ... The glowing Noble Phantasms now numbered thirty-two. This time, even Rider kept silent. Berserker had endured a continuous attack of sixteen Noble Phantasms, but there was no way one could resist twice that number. That went for all the other Servants as well. Nobody could estimate the limits of the golden Archer's latent power anymore.

* * *

"Gilgamesh is serious. She intends to open the Gate of Babylon even wider." Tohsaka Tokiomi held his head at Kotomine Kirei's comment coming from the jeweled communicator. The basement of the Tohsaka mansion had none of the discomfort of the faraway warehouse district battlefield. Kirei, manipulating Caster, was bringing results. The conditions were perfect. The only thing that had not been factored in the calculations was perhaps that the strongest Heroic Spirit, Gilgamesh, had appeared in the present time under the Archer class.

It was not an exaggeration to say that the defining characteristic of the Archer class was the strength of its Noble Phantasms. For Gilgamesh who owned an extraordinary one of EX-rank, it might have been inevitable. But ultimately, the Independent Action skill of the self-conceited King of Heroes was highly ranked, and that was the biggest miscalculation. Tokiomi respected the great prestige of the King of Heroes as much as he could, and as much as she deserved. But to think that his tolerance would be tested so much, and so early…

Gilgamesh must be the last to move. Right now, it was still Caster's turn to act and gather information. Doing something as rash as exposing the Gate of Babylon again, and pitching all her strength against the mysterious Berserker—this could not be overlooked. To a Servant capable of Independent Action, who did not need to rely on the Master, the only way to give her orders was through the use of Command Spells. This granted one the right to give only three absolute orders. To make a Servant out of Gilgamesh, who did not have an ounce of respect for her Master, they were all the more precious. Be Elegant—this was a family precept handed down for generations in the Tohsaka family.

For him, who kept this motto closely, to be pressed into using a Command Spell before all the other Masters…

"Master, your decision?" Kirei urged with a hard voice from the other end of the communicator. Gritting his teeth, Tokiomi stared at the back of his right hand.

* * *

First staring at Berserker with a burning hatred, Archer slowly looked away, to the southeast. Over there was the hill of Miyama district and the high-class residential area. How many people could guess it was the direction of the Tohsaka mansion?

"Do you think a sermon from someone like you can appease a king's anger? You're quite presumptuous, Tokiomi ..." With a tone of abject annoyance, Archer spat in a suppressed voice. The glow of the countless Noble Phantasms around her disappeared at once, off to elsewhere.

"... You dodged death by a hair, mad dog."

Her resentment was barely reined in, but the flame of killing intent had already faded from her crimson eyes. With firm haughtiness, the golden Archer glared at the row of Servants.

"You mongrels. Cut down the mob next time. I will tolerate no less than a real hero." With this final careless remark, Archer canceled her materialization. The golden armor dematerialized and disappeared, leaving only an afterglow. The confrontation between the two knights, golden and dark, reached its conclusion in a way no one expected.

"Hmf. Apparently her Master has even more of a hardy character than Archer herself."

Amazed, Rider exaggerated with a bitter smile. But everyone else figured it was no time for a careless remark. The Berserker who had matched Archer evenly was still standing in front of them. The eyes glowing widely in the slit of the helmet first wandered in the empty space, having lost their target ... Then, finding new spoils, they were rekindled again. Now the target of that malice-colored glare, Saber felt a chill bustling through his spine.

"... Ur ..." The voice seemed to boil from the ground. Like a spell or curse, it was a moan full of hostility, hardly resembling human speech. This was the voice of Berserker, heard for the first time.

"... Ar ... Ur ... h!"

Like a curse with a human shape, swelling from murderous intent, the bloody warrior charged at the silver King of Knights.

* * *

Mana is consumed not only to keep the Servant materialized, but also for even the least of their efforts. In battle, the rate of mana consumption is higher. This mana is extracted from the Master's Magic Circuits and supplied to the Servant. The activation of the Magic Circuits, in Matou Kariya's case, means hellish pain, as his body was eaten by the Crest worms. With the Servant dematerialized, mana consumption was at its minimum. Still, in that state, Kariya would sometimes be tortured with palpitations and dizziness. But with Berserker materialized, the agony was beyond imagination.

The foreign body awakened, eating his flesh and straining his bones. Acting as Kariya's pseudo Magic Circuits, the Crest worms supplied the extracted mana to Berserker without concern for the host's limits. That agony was not even the half of it. Being corroded, plundered by a living creature inside his body—the pain of being devoured alive was doubled by fear and disgust.

"Guh ... Ga-gwa ... hh!" Hiding in the darkness, Kariya stifled the scream of impending death that raked up his throat and chest. When his skin tore and blood started running, he started chewing off the fingernails on both hands. Worse still, the mana consumption rate of the Berserker class was higher than other Servants. When Zouken made Kariya use the maddening formula during the summoning to strengthen him, he was probably planning to tyrannize him in this way.

The worms bit at his spine. The worms were melting his nerves. The worms were nesting en masse inside Kariya's body. The worms are the worms are the worms are the worms the worms, the worms, the worms…

"Gaaaaahh…!" He was unable to hold in his scream, but only a feeble moan came out; The intense pain was choking him, and the sound would not come out of his throat. As he started sobbing, Kariya kept trampling his body out of rage. He could not even watch over the fight between Archer and Berserker in the main street. When the tempest of pain finally calmed, it took Kariya some time before thought returned and he could grasp the situation.

"... Haa ... Haa ..."

Raggedly exhaling the remains of his agony, Kariya resumed his observation of the battlefield through the vision of his familiar. There were three Servants left. Archer was nowhere to be seen. The battle had ended. He had not managed to achieve victory. Perhaps Tokiomi had evacuated Archer when he realized his disadvantage. Before the overwhelming golden Archer, Kariya's Berserker had not taken even one step back. With magecraft improvised in a year, Kariya was able to rival Tohsaka magecraft that had been polished for generations, all by himself.

Haggardly, Kariya left out a dry laugh at his theory. He did it. That haughty magus was finally splattered with mud by an ordinary man like Kariya, after always looking down at the likes of him. In his heart, Kariya sneered generously at Tokiomi and Zouken, thinking, _did you see that? I'm not a loser. Nobody will call me a failure or an insect anymore. I can fight against you. I'll have you know what fear is…_

That was enough for tonight. There was no reason to continue a battle that would hurt him, now that his sworn enemy, Archer, had withdrawn. Just let the other Servants kill each other as they wish. At this conclusion, Kariya became the most panicked of them all when he saw Berserker take Saber as his new target and charge at her.

"Stop ... Come back! Come back here, Berserker!"

He called out to him. Such a simple instruction should be enough to reach him, and yet the knight did not respond. Instead, the amount of mana consumed by Berserker's excitation stimulated all the crest worms at once, and pain shot again through Kariya's body.

"Berserke—er! Stop it!"

With this round of pain, Kariya's voice was more like a scream. He did not even have the mental freedom to use a Command Spell anymore. Swarmed by a torrent of agony, Kariya could only focus entirely on keeping hold of his receding consciousness.

* * *

The knight charged with the force of a wild beast, kicking at the asphalt. He looked only at Saber, swirling with black killing intent. Naturally, Saber was not unprepared. He immediately readied his sword in a defensive stance. Like a ghastly drive creeping on the ground, Berserker swung his current weapon down at Saber's head. Saber blocked it safely with his invisible sword.

Saber's sword hidden under Invisible Air was definitely the holiest of the holy swords, the most supreme Noble Phantasm. There was no way it would have any trouble, even against a blade of the same time and region. The only thing that could possibly match Saber's sword with such strength is a powered Noble Phantasm. Yet…

"Wh—at?" Holding up against the assault, Saber could not believe his eyes. The blade in Berserker's hands was beginning to glow red. It radiated to Berserker's two gauntlets, tinting the world in its light. This was Berserker's mana—the mana muddled with bloodthirst and hatred, possessed only by the knight.

"You don't mean ...?!" Saber tried piecing together, through his surprise, the true nature of this Berserker's Noble Phantasm. Lancer and Rider, watching closely, reached the same conclusion.

"... So that's it. When Red gets angry, his Noble Phantasm grows stronger." Rider growled in admiration.

They now understood the frightening lure. The second blow, the third blow—Berserker pressed Saber back with impressive swings of his makeshift spears, while Saber only defended herself. His left hand, resting on the hilt, had no strength in it, and the wound dealt by Lancer's Gáe Bolg started to hurt again. With only his right hand wielding his sword, Saber could barely fight with the support of mana, but faced with torrential attacks from the furious Berserker she could only defend. Saber could not find a chance to retaliate, and gradually became disadvantaged.

"Saber ...!" Irisviel called out eagerly. Unnoticed, drops of anxious sweat seeped from the King of Knight's brow.

Emiya Kiritsugu, from his distant surveillance, also saw that Saber was in a tight spot. But with his current equipment he could not interfere in a duel between Servants. If they could at least find out where Berserker's Master was located, there might be ways to handle this ... But Kiritsugu could not see Berserker's Master with any of his two night scopes.

"... Maiya, can you see from your side?"

"No, I can't see him."

Kiritsugu furrowed his brows at Maiya's reply. Their positions were blind spots to each other. If they could not see the Master, it might be that Berserker's Master also considered his own hiding place as a priority, and did not stay at a position where he could deliver commands directly to his Servant. It seemed the opponent was more prudent than Archer's Master. For Kiritsugu, compared to talented but flippant magi, those who did not show themselves blatantly were much harder to handle.

"The situation does not look good ..."

Right now, it involved more than just single combat between Berserker and Saber. Between the two stood Lancer and Rider, both still at full strength. On a battlefield where only the strongest survived, the worst position was to be at a clear disadvantage. The Masters of the other Servants must be thinking the same—at this point, by just helping Berserker a little, they could easily defeat Saber. Then they could eliminate the exhausted Berserker. It would be two birds with one stone. Lancer and Rider could defeat two enemies with minimal mana expenditure.

Kiritsugu sighted his rifle toward the top of the crane once again. The Assassin with the hooded face was still sitting there. Just one moment of carelessness might cost Kiritsugu his life.

"... Damn." Kiritsugu gritted his teeth, but could only sit and wait.

The numbness of Saber's fingers cost him the maneuverability of his sword; Saber was keenly anxious because of that. Of course, he was aware of his danger. In the current situation, he did not have any strength left to fight Berserker anymore.

Berserker, on the other hand, mercilessly and ferociously attacked, as befitting the Heroic Spirit of Fury. Although Berserker continued to slash his sword crudely like a beast, each swing was nonetheless skillfully accurate and precise.

It was not Berserker's vigor that pressed Saber down, but his intensely fierce barrage gave Saber no way to retaliate. No matter how bad his hand might be, the strongest Servant Saber did not even have a chance to strike back. On top of that, although Berserker's weapons were strengthened with mana, they were still the twisted remains of an iron pole.

Berserker was no mere mad dog. The Heroic Spirit that became Berserker was a master warrior with amazing skills that he still possessed even after his Mad Enhancement.

"You ... Just who are you?!"

Of course, the knight ignored Saber's question, opting to instead thrust his sword in a single jab at Saber. The strike was an absolutely exceptional feat. The ferocity of the strike appeared to hit Saber's stature and—

—did not hit Saber. What deflected this Noble Phantasm with ease was a streak of red light that glimmered through the darkness. Lancer had her back to the astonished King of Knights. The spearwoman took a pose, protecting Saber, the King of Knights, whom she regarded as an enemy only moments ago, and stood against Berserker.

"Please stop your pranks now, Berserker."

Lancer pointed at the knight with the tip of the long spear in her right hand—Gáe Bolg, the Death Piercing Barbed Spear—and coldly declared war on the black knight. If Lancer's red spear could repel the mana of Berserker's Noble Phantasm, then the Noble Phantasm covered by Berserker's mana would be nothing but a heap of steel, essentially a sturdy, but not invincible, rod.

"Saber has a previous engagement with me. If you keep up this nonsense and interrupt the battle between us, I won't stay quiet."

"Lancer ..." The Heroic Spirit of the Spear devotedly believed in the same chivalry as he. Despite that, not everyone gathered on this battlefield praised Lancer's actions.

"What are you doing, Lancer? This is a good chance to defeat Saber."

A voice questioned severely. This displeased voice should be Lancer's Master. However, Lancer unexpectedly donned a solemn expression, unbefitting the Heroic Spirit.

"This fight with Saber is a battle that I, Scáthach, gambled my honor on!" She yelled loudly at the empty sky.

"I'll first let you see how I will kill that mad dog. Therefore, Master! This duel between Saber and I—"

"No." Mercilessly interrupting Lancer's passionate plea, Lancer's Master ordered with an even colder tone. "Lancer, assist Berserker in killing Saber. I command you with the Command Seal."

The air on the battlefield froze with tension. The Command Seal: An absolute order for a Servant. No matter how great a Heroic Spirit might be, they could not disobey a Command Seal.

Consequently, Lancer was no longer in possession of free will. The tip of the red spear reversed direction and attacked, flying toward Saber with a low whistle. Two demonic spears brushed past the shoulders of the rapidly retreating Saber one after the other in front of her face, sweeping across the sky. Lancer used the two spears in her left and right hand to attack the target directly behind her without even turning her head around. This astonishing prowess with the spears, as though the pair could change form at will, was a show of Lancer's true strength. The accuracy of Lancer's techniques did not even evoke her opponent's rebuke.

"Lancer ...!" Saber, halfway through his sentence, suddenly went silent. Lancer turned around. Humiliation and anger filled her face with anguish; it spoke of the Heroic Spirit Scáthach's thoughts more than any mighty argument ever could. For Lancer, whose body was bound by the Command Seal, her flesh no longer belonged to herself. It was merely a cruel and merciless machine called a Servant. All the skills and abilities she had gained were manipulated wantonly without regard for her own beliefs, used only to fulfill the Master's supreme command. As a Heroic Spirit, Saber deeply understood Lancer's regret.

Beside Lancer, Berserker was closing in step by step. Although the situation had changed on the battlefield, Berserker's goal apparently was still Saber. Berserker picked up the sword that had been flung away by Lancer's red spear, and this time he held it at eye level. The aura resumed.

Saber was out of options, and was at the limit of his abilities just handling Berserker alone. At the moment, with Lancer as his enemy as well, Saber had no chance of emerging victorious.

"... Saber... I'm sorry..." Lancer moaned painfully, but continued to advance toward Saber step by step. Contrary to her expression of shame, the quivering mana of the two spears left and right, hiding their killing intent, were raised in a haze. The knight beside Lancer remained silent as ever, but the intensity of his threatening surge increased exponentially, advancing toward Saber. A thick layer of red veins covered the blade, turning it into something beyond a sword, alien and repulsive, and the tip was pointed intimidatingly at Saber. Saber stared calmly and intensely at those Noble Phantasms, gave a sidelong glance at Irisviel, and caught his gaze.

"Irisviel, I will handle the situation. During that time—" Saber's thoughts were already running in circles. There was only one desperate measure left. He could do only this in such a grave situation. No matter how big a sign of defeat he was showing right now, he must protect Irisviel. Even if he was to lose her own life ...

"During that time, I need to get you out of danger. Run as far as you can." Saber nonchalantly reported this quick decision to Irisviel, but Irisviel hadn't understood Saber's intention. The proud knight King would cleave a path for Irisviel to survive at the expense of his own life. Irisviel shook her head decisively. She did not expect Saber to sacrifice himself in even the smallest of ways.

"Irisviel! No matter what happens, you must—"

"Rest assured Saber. Believe in your Master."

Saber recognized the deeper meaning hidden in the sentence, but he was still very puzzled. _Kiritsugu—Is he here?_

Actually, Irisviel did not help with Saber's confusion, but she had always believed firmly in Kiritsugu. At this point, Saber and she had not done anything wrongly. Per Kiritsugu's orders, they had fought honorably, making a big show in the open. Now Saber was the focus of the battlefield. Everyone regarded this knight as a true threat.

The two spears of piercing death and the blade soaked with killing aura failed to threaten Irisviel. All this was proceeding as Kiritsugu had planned. That is—Saber and Irisviel should now be at an advantage.

 _Therefore—the rest is up to you, dear._ Turning to her husband who was nowhere to be seen, Irisviel prayed with total conviction.

Emiya Kiritsugu made a decision to act, not because he detected his wife's worries, but from a clear analysis of the situation. The first to be protected was the Vessel of the Grail, Irisviel. Since Saber could no longer protect his Master, right now no hesitation could be afforded.

"... Maiya. Match my countdown and attack Assassin. Restrain him."

"Understood." The answer from the radio was immediate. The air was soaked with tension. At this point, they had to kill Lancer's Master. It was the only way.

"—Six."

Kiritsugu began to count in a low voice, and focused the heat-vision scope toward Lancer's Master. After customization, the WA2000 sniper rifle was tested outside the country before it came into Japan; Kiritsugu was already familiar with the gun's characteristics. However, he had not tested its compatibility with the night scope system. At this point, he could only rely on Maiya's skill.

"—Five."

According to Maiya's report, the shooting range had been adjusted to 500 meters. The reticule in the scope should be identical to the bullet's flight path, from the muzzle out to 500 meters. In long-distance shooting, the bullet doesn't travel in a straight line, but in a shallow parabola. That is, when the target is closer than the shooting distance, the bullet's actual landing point is a bit off from the point of aim, a bit lower. Lancer's Master was less than 300 meters away. Kiritsugu carefully adjusted the aim.

"—Four."

Lancer was forced to attack Saber because of his Master's Command Seal. After her Master was shot dead, her reactions may be unpredictable, but she would probably stop attacking Saber.

Then the only direct threat would be the lone Berserker. Kiritsugu would come up with an idea to get Saber and Irisviel out of danger.

The last problem was Kiritsugu's own safety. Under such a situation, he had no other choice but to resort to bold actions, such as firing right next to Assassin.

"—Three."

To reduce the risk, Kiritsugu timed his shots to Maiya's. Her AUG fired a 5.56MM Remington high-velocity cartridge. Its power would not damage Assassin. However, if Assassin came under sudden fire, he might ignore the other sniper in front of him—it goes without saying that the preparations were severely deficient.

"—Two."

Assassin might mistakenly take Maiya, who was only pretending to attack, as his enemy. However, Maiya's position was far enough from Assassin for her to escape. Perhaps, out of fear of showing himself in front of other Masters, Assassin would have left before that point. However, in this already unexpected situation, Assassin might immediately assault Kiritsugu, who was right beside him. At that point, they could only fight on and hope for the best. In the first place, this had nothing to do with winning. It was the only way.

"—One."

Kiritsugu breathed quietly and slowly pulled the trigger. The Walther's muzzle was completely still; the hollow barrel was like a killing glare that locked its gaze onto the target. At this moment, a deafening rumble reverberated. That loud sound was not Maiya's AUG firing full-auto, and was obviously not Kiritsugu's shot, either. It was not the characteristic report of rifle fire, but an impact strong enough to shake the earth. It was a thunderbolt that suddenly visited the battlefield. It had a dizzying flash of lightning that contrived to turn night into day, and a roar that boomed greater than any thunder.

"Haaayaaahhh!"

The lightning did not descend from the sky, but traversed across the ground. No—that thing that looked like lightning was the galloping chariot entangled by escaping electricity.

Lancer quickly flipped backwards and avoided the chariot in time. But Berserker, who kept all his attention of Saber, did not even have time to turn around and register what was happening. Accompanying Rider's war cry, the two divine bulls first kicked the black knight to the ground with their four front hooves, and then trampled the black knight mercilessly with their four hind hooves. Each hoof was enveloped with rolling purple lightning; just one kick would have been a very heavy hit. The divine bulls trampled upon Berserker eight times in all; his wounds must have been fatal.

After Rider's chariot roared past, Berserker did not even have the strength to stand. The figure with the bloody armor lay face up on the ground. Rider sat on the stopped chariot and gazed down at his utterly defeated enemy. His spirited face was covered with smiles.

"—Oh? What happened to you, one with such a backbone?"

Berserker was not dead yet. His body twitched feebly, and he slowly rose up from the ground. The knight, stomped upon by the divine bulls, finally managed to turn his body around and crawl away from the chariot's path. He had noticed Rider, and luckily avoided the decisive maximum impact of the chariot wheels.

Rider's Noble Phantasm sped across in front of Saber. Upon seeing the Noble Phantasm's overwhelming power of destruction, Saber was speechless. Gordius Wheel—its power obviously lay not in one-on-one fighting, but against armies. Even the gallop just then had been carefully calibrated by Rider. Had Rider wished it, even Saber, much less Lancer, would have fallen prey to those hooves and wheels.

The recumbent Berserker stretched out his leg weakly in an attempt to stand, but he had suffered a heavy impact and seemed to have realized that he could not keep up the fight. As he carefully stopped moving, his outline turned fuzzy, dissipating like thin mist. He canceled his physical form, returning to spiritual form, and escaped in this fashion.

"Under such conditions, I can only ask Red to remove himself—"

Standing on his chariot, Rider appeared as if nothing has happened. He called out with his face toward the sky and his robust neck bent.

"Master of Lancer. Although I do not know where you are hiding, you have disgraced a battle between knights by despicable means. This is unbefitting of a magus's opponent." At this point, the stalwart Servant smiled savagely, threatening the invisible enemy.

"Have Lancer retreat. If you still insist in humiliating her further, then I will join Saber and the two of us will defeat your Servant. How about that?"

The anger of the hidden magus could be felt throughout the battlefield. But he did not hesitate. "—Retreat, Lancer. That is enough for tonight."

Upon hearing the command Lancer heaved a sigh of relief and lowered the spear in her hand. "Many thanks, King of Conquerors."

When he heard the whispered thanks of the spearwoman, Rider gave a satisfied smile. "That's nothing. A show of affection is a beautiful thing on the battlefield."

Lancer once again expressed gratitude toward Rider with her gaze, then she nodded toward Saber. There was no need for words. They had confirmed the oath between them. Saber also nodded toward Lancer. The duel would continue another time. With this confirmation, Lancer returned to spiritual form and disappeared.

The destructive storm now blown over the battlefield, silence arrived in due course. Soon after, as though suddenly remembered, the sound of the waves crashing against the cliff and the bustle of faraway streets crept back into the night sky. Lancer's Master must have released the barrier that was cast in the neighboring area.

Saber gazed at the last person standing on the battlefield, Rider, with complicated feelings.

"... So, why did you come here, King of Conquerors?"

"Ah. I've never considered that properly." Faced with Saber's inquiry, the stalwart Servant shrugged nonchalantly, as though it did not concern him. "Things like reasons and plans, such bothersome trivialities, should be left to future historians to give me. Heroes like us only need to obey our hearts' desire, and gallop through the battlefield with our boiling blood."

"... That is something only a king can say." Saber's disappointed reply was adamant. He believed in the chaste way of knights, a world set apart from the barbaric principles Rider used to justify his actions.

"Oh? Are you saying my way of kingship is alien to you? Hmph, that is only natural." Rider snorted, and ignored Saber's defiant glare. "All ways of kingship are unique. For I, a king, am as incompatible with you, also a king, as fire is to water. You are trying to split this world into black and white."

"That is my desire. This day, on this ground, I too will—"

"Enough, enough, rest that vigor for now." Rider gave a small smile and pointed at Saber's left shoulder. "I, Iskandar, will not take advantage of your weakness as others would. Saber, fulfill your promise with Lancer first. Then I will duel with Lancer or you, whoever might be the victor in that battle."

Saber was about to rebuke, but his wounds were too much of a handicap before Rider. It would not do to underestimate the battle prowess of this Heroic Spirit, who defeated Berserker in one blow.

"Then, King of Knights, we are going to part ways for now. The next time we meet, I will incite all of my hot blood into fighting you. Little master, have you anything to command?"

The youth who lay on the steering platform beside Rider's feet did not respond. Rider grabbed his collar and heaved him up, but the short little Master's eyes were rolled back; he had already fainted. It seemed Rider's display of power was too strong when he attacked Berserker by surprise.

"... This one needs to learn how to be unwavering." Rider sighed, placing his Master into his own arms, then tightened the reins of his two divine bulls. The bulls brayed, emitted thunder, and beamed rays of lightning from their hooves as they soared into the sky.

"Farewell!" Accompanied by the roaring thunder, Rider's chariot galloped into the southern sky. Irisviel finally disentangled herself from tension and released the breath she was holding. When she looked about her, all she could see was a scene of total devastation. That was to be expected—five Servants were gathered at one place, and some of them had unreservedly released their Noble Phantasms, destroying at will.

"The first battle was already conducted with such intensity. Had there ever been a Holy Grail War like this before?"

Irisviel was not worried about the traces of destruction. The Holy Church's supervisor was responsible for the secrecy of the war. Though the place looked like it had experienced an earthquake, the supervisor would organize those employed by the Church and carefully mend the area.

Saber was still silent, staring at the sky that Rider flew past. His silhouette, showing no sign of excitement or exhaustion from the savage battle, stood sternly and soundlessly on the battlefield. That figure of the man clad in armor was like a painting, an image of beauty that allowed no violation. But Irisviel did not mirror Saber's calm demeanor; she knew Saber had taken a major injury.

"Saber, your left arm—"

"Yes. It's still numb, even now; what a disgrace. As Rider had said, if I do not end my duel with Lancer and remove the curse of this wound, it will interfere with my battles against other Servants."

Irisviel did not detect any unease in the King of Knight's indifferent tone. Saber's resolution consoled Irisviel.

"... Thank you, Saber. My life was saved because of you." Irisviel lowered her head. Saber replied with a smile.

"I fight at the front line to protect you behind me, Irisviel."

Irisviel once again felt it with a pang—Saber's strength, courage, and gentleness. He was a true knight, a hero.

"The war has only just begun, Irisviel. Tonight's battle is only the first night of the beginning of war."

"... Yes."

"They are all strong enemies of equal might. Heroes invited from different eras ... None of them can be easily disposed of."

There was no anxiety or fear in Saber's voice. Facing the coming storm, the warrior's heart was both excited and calm. The soaring spirit and boiling blood would not change in any era, any world. That was the true testimony of a hero's soul. The girl stared at the southern sky and proclaimed calmly.

"This is ... the war of the Holy Grail."

* * *

 _Word Count: 13,533 words_

 **Author's Note:** Updated the word count of the previous chapter, which I forgot to post (Whoops).

 **R &R**


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